When Foreigners Come to Call
by Musicangel913
Summary: It's the trio's fourth year, and a tournament that hasn't been played in years will attempt to unify three of Europe's most respected schools of magic. Will it succeed, or will rising tensions, both in school and in the Wizarding world, cause more trouble than anticipated? Twisted canon, part 4.
1. To Dance Again

**A/N: Welcome to part 4 of my twisted canon! If you haven't read parts 1-3, I highly suggest doing so before coming here - there's some pretty crucial plot stuff in there. 'Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio' is the place to start - obviously, it's on my profile. Hope you enjoy! Without further ado, on we go...**

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"Oy, you lot! Lunch is ready!"

"All _right!"_ The _whoosh_ of broomsticks nearly drowned out the exclamations of six happy teenagers as they raced downward and dismounted. Sirius, who'd been the one to call the children in, chuckled and followed them as they trooped into the Potter-Black kitchen, where a heaping plate of sandwiches and jugs of iced pumpkin juice and lemonade awaited them.

"Mum, these look fantastic!" Harry Potter exclaimed as he passed plates around.

"Thanks, love," Lily replied with a smile. She surveyed the rest of the group as they busied themselves with the food. Next to Harry was Draco Black, who felt much more like flesh-and-blood family than merely the adopted son he was. Hermione Granger, their next-door neighbor, was chatting animatedly with Eloise Midgen, a shy, curly-haired blonde girl whom Lily didn't know all that well but seemed very sweet, and Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom brought up the rear, laughing loudly about something that had happened in the Quidditch match the six friends had just finished.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione exclaimed as she set her plate down to hug them. "I wasn't expecting you to be here – I thought you had that big surgery today?"

"Finished early," her mother replied. "Besides, we wouldn't want to miss all the fun, would we? Why don't you introduce your friends?" Hermione immediately pointed out Neville and Eloise, and after grabbing herself some silverware, she suggested that they take advantage of the nice weather by having a picnic. The others readily agreed, and the group of ten headed outside and settled themselves in a circle on the back lawn.

"How's your gran doing, Neville?" Lily asked.

"Very well, thanks," Neville replied. "Still as stubborn as ever, of course, but she wouldn't be Gran otherwise." He blushed bright pink yet smiled all the same – his grandmother was indeed a formidable woman, but he respected her more than almost anyone he knew. He always thought it couldn't be easy, having to raise your grandson after your son and his wife had been tortured into madness, but Neville thought she was doing a wonderful job. Without her strict but guiding hand, Neville was certain he wouldn't be half the person he was today.

"And how about you, Eloise?" Hermione's mother asked kindly. "Hermione's told us a little bit about you, of course…" Eloise blushed even harder than Neville. If there was one thing she hated, it was being the center of attention…but these people were her friends. Hermione had made good on her promise to invite Eloise over to play Quidditch with them, and Eloise was having such a good time already.

"My dad works for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and my mum's a primary school teacher – she's a Muggle," Eloise explained. "Dan, my older brother, has been out of Hogwarts for a year now – he was in Hufflepuff – and I'm, well, me." She shrugged sheepishly and took a sip of lemonade. "Thank you for inviting me over today, by the way. It was very kind of you."

"Not at all, dear," Lily reassured her. "Friends are welcome anytime."

"Your dad works under Crouch, then?" Ginny asked. When Eloise cocked her head questioningly, the redhead explained, "My brother Percy just started working in that department, and his boss is all he talks about – it's a tad pathetic how much he worships the man, to be honest." Eloise giggled.

"Mr. Crouch is a rather stern man, isn't he? I've met him a few times, and he seemed very no-nonsense – I can understand why your brother likes him. Strictly speaking, yes, Mr. Crouch is my dad's boss, but Dad doesn't work with him directly all that much. He works on a team that regulates trade with the Continent – he used to take me to all sorts of places when I was little, and Dan and I are going to Spain with him for a few days later this summer."

"That sounds like so much fun!" Ginny said enthusiastically. "I hope I get the chance to travel more – Egypt last year was amazing."

"Did you all hear the latest about the World Cup?" Sirius asked. "Luxembourg destroyed Scotland – looks like Ireland's our last hope if we want a local team in the final tournament." This declaration immediately prompted a discussion about Quidditch – which teams they hoped would do well, match-ups that couldn't be missed, and how the league teams were doing with so many star players gone to play for their national sides. Ginny's favorite team, the Holyhead Harpies, had been going strong for months and didn't seem affected in the slightest, but Puddlemere United, the squad Harry and Draco strongly supported, was suffering the loss of three key players and had a few unfortunate defeats under their belt as a result. Harry was disappointed to hear of Scotland's loss, but as at least two of Puddlemere's missing players were Scottish, he was optimistic that their imminent return to the club would help them win their next match against the Kenmare Kestrels.

"What are the rest of your brothers up to, Gin?" Harry asked as he picked up another sandwich. They'd invited Ron to today's gathering as well, but Mrs. Weasley had told him that only Ginny was able to come, as the boys were out of town.

"Well, I already told you about Percy," Ginny began. "He practically lives at work, and when he does come home, it's to drool over his boss. Fred, George, and Ron aren't home – they're camping with Dad."

"Camping?" Harry asked, looking both shocked and amused.

"Yup. They left yesterday and won't be back 'til Tuesday. Dad's so obsessed with Muggle stuff and has been wanting to go for years, and they finally caved and promised they would. It'll be interesting to see what happens – think four Weasley men can survive in the woods for that long without magic?" Everyone laughed at that. Mr. Weasley's fascination with Muggles, while a little odd, was also more than endearing, and they could only guess how excited he was that his sons had agreed to the trip.

"I'm sure they'll have some great stories to tell – Fred and George are there, after all," Hermione pointed out, eliciting another round of giggles.

"So…we wanted to talk to you lot about something," Sirius began. At their apprehensive looks, he quickly said, "It's nothing bad! Just something we wanted to do with you this summer, that's all."

"Is it about the World Cup?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Not quite – although we're working on that, so be patient," Sirius said with a wink. "Draco, remember how there was a list of things your mother wanted us to teach you?" Draco nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I don't know that you ever showed me that list, but you definitely told me about it."

"K. Well, some of the stuff we've already taught you – decent table manners, for one, and you have your piano lessons." Draco nodded again. He was glad his mother had insisted that he learn an instrument, as he really did enjoy playing. Sirius tossed his dark hair out of his eyes, which were the same deep gray as Draco's own.

"One of the things she wants you to learn really isn't all that much fun to do by yourself, and even more awkward to do with strangers," Sirius said, "but it might be a good year for all of you to learn, as you'll need to know how by December."

"What's that, Padfoot?" Hermione asked.

"To dance," Sirius said. "Like, ballroom dance. Draco, coming from a high-society pureblood family, would've learned ages ago, as he would've been expected to attend any and all formal functions his parents hosted. I myself started learning when I was five – rebel of the family or not, I was still expected to be at the parties, and there was no way my dear mother was going to let her eldest son make a mockery of her house." He paused. "That sounded rather negative, didn't it? Dancing's actually quite fun, and something you should know anyway, for weddings, big birthday parties, stuff like that."

"You said we'd have to know how by December," Hermione said. "Why's that?" Sirius and Lily looked at each other.

"Strictly speaking, we can't tell you," Lily said at last. "Dumbledore wants it to be a surprise. But I think it's safe to say that something very special will be happening at Hogwarts this year, something that hasn't happened in quite a while and that will be unlike anything you've experienced before. Part of the…event, shall we say, is a Christmas ball, hence the encouragement of dance lessons."

"And I'll bet that's why our supplies list includes dress robes this year," Neville pointed out. "Somehow I don't think we'd be wearing our school uniforms to an event like that."

"No, you wouldn't," Lily agreed. "You'll want something much nicer. So…what do you think?"

"I think it sounds like fun," Ginny said with a shrug. "If we're going to this ball anyway, we might as well look good and be able to enjoy it, right?"

"You really think we'll all want to go?" Harry asked, looking doubtful.

"Trust me, you will," Sirius said. "This event is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and you won't want to miss any part of it." Harry seemed satisfied with this answer and nodded in acceptance.

"Shall we give it a go?" Lily asked.

"What, now?"

"No time like the present," she said. "Come on." Following Lily's lead, they picked up their plates, cups, and the empty food platters, which they dropped in the sink before retreating into the living room.

"Alright," Sirius said once the children had all taken a seat. "It's probably easiest if we demonstrate first – that way, you can see how it's supposed to be done." He waved his wand at the stereo in the corner, which began playing a waltz, then offered his hand to Lily.

"You start like so," Lily said, taking Sirius' offered hand and guiding his other to her waist. "And…one, two three, one, two, three…" They began to dance. It might've looked funny, as their shorts and bare feet were far from formal dancewear, but they moved so effortlessly that their attire was quickly forgotten. Lily's many years of childhood ballet lessons were evident in the way she moved, and Padfoot certainly looked like he'd been taught to dance from a young age as well. When the song finished, they bowed to each other as the onlookers clapped enthusiastically.

"That was wonderful!" Hermione gushed as Sirius charmed the stereo silent once more. "I didn't know you could do that!" Sirius chuckled.

"I'll bet your parents can too, Hermione," he said.

"Oh, goodness, I haven't danced in years!" Hermione's mother protested.

"Please, Mum?" Hermione asked. The rest of the children immediately joined in the pleas, eager for another demonstration.

"Come on, Helen," Hermione's father said with a laugh. "It'll be fun." Her mother sighed and stood up.

"Alright, then," she conceded with a smile. Sirius started the music, and the Grangers danced – not quite as spectacularly as Lily and Sirius, but well enough that the children were still impressed. When the song ended, Hermione's dad brought his wife into an exaggerated spin.

"Bob, you're being ridiculous!" she said, though she was laughing too. Her husband only chuckled and lightly kissed her cheek before guiding her back to the couch.

"Not bad, you two," Sirius said, giving them an approving nod. "Alright, everyone, now it's your turn, so pair up!"

They spent the better part of the rest of the afternoon learning the basic steps. As the group was an even split, it was easy for them to pair off, and Sirius had them change things up after each song so that they'd eventually all partnered each other. Hermione, Harry, and Draco each took turns dancing with their parents as well, and Hermione laughed heartily when her father twirled her in much the same way he'd done with his wife.

Some of them made more progress than others – Neville, for instance, was known for being quite clumsy and therefore didn't get much further than a basic box step, and Eloise was having a hard time relaxing and thus danced rather stiffly, but they all agreed that it was great fun. Hermione and Draco, when partnered together, moved nearly as effortlessly as Padfoot and Lily and were soon adding all sorts of variations onto the basic steps, and even Harry and Ginny worked well enough together that Lily taught them a spin or two.

"Brilliant!" Sirius cried when they finally stopped. "You'll be the best-looking kids at the ball, I guarantee it!" Exhausted, the friends collapsed onto their backs, staring up at him from their positions on the living room floor. He laughed.

"I think we wore them out, Lil," he said matter-of-factly. "I'd say we order that takeout now and let them get their slumber party started." The children perked up at this and immediately started chattering about their plans for the night – the girls wanted to take advantage of the Grangers' new television to watch romantic comedies while eating lots of ice cream, and the boys had plans to stay up late swapping ghost stories and coming up with pranks to play on the girls.

"Oh, and I suppose I can tell you now, since I've been keeping you in suspense forever…" Sirius paused. "I won't tell you which match, since I want it to be a surprise, but we are indeed going to the Quidditch World Cup!" An eruption of cheers met this announcement, and the Quidditch talk recommenced as the guests grabbed their bags and everyone went upstairs to change into their pajamas. As they came tumbling back down fifteen minutes later, eager for plenty of food and fun, Sirius couldn't help but laugh at the chaos that was his house – his overly proper mother would be rolling in her grave at the mere thought, but he wouldn't have had it any other way.

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**A/N: I don't think I can express how excited I am that we've made it to GoF - so many plans for this one! Hope you all stick around to see what our friends get up to.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	2. Diagon Alley

The next week passed in a blur as the members of the Potter-Black and Granger households suddenly found themselves very busy indeed. After their friends had left, Sirius had surprised the trio with the news that not only were they going to the World Cup, but they were going to the _final._ Harry had let out a whoop of joy and started dancing around the kitchen in his excitement, and it wasn't long before he'd dragged Draco and Hermione into his celebration as well. They'd jumped and shouted for nearly five minutes straight until, overcome by the silliness of the situation, they'd collapsed on the floor in a heap of giggles. Sirius had smiled at the sight – what with all the trouble those three had gotten into at school so far, it was nice to see them acting like carefree kids sometimes.

The final was to take place on a Monday night, roughly a week and a half before they returned to Hogwarts. As Quidditch matches didn't end until one of the Seekers caught the Snitch, they had no idea how long they'd actually be away, and so Lily suggested they all go to Diagon Alley a bit early and get their new things beforehand. A quick owl to the Weasleys confirmed that their friends would be able to join them for the excursion, and it was with the promise of a fun day on the town that they piled into the car on the appointed morning.

"Oy, Harry – over here!"

Harry turned toward the familiar voice that had called out to them the instant they stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron and saw Ron Weasley grinning back at him, flanked by Fred, George, Ginny, and their mother.

"Good to see you, mate!" Ron said as he clapped Harry on the shoulder. He then hugged Hermione and shook Draco's hand – Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's formality with Draco, but he had to give the redhead credit for trying. Ron had grown up with an innate distrust of all things Slytherin, and as he wasn't as close with the trio as Ginny was, it had taken him a while to learn that not everything was so black and white – the greeting, though a bit stiff, was definitely progress.

"Good to see you too," Harry said. "Excited about the match?"

"Like hell I am!" Ron agreed, and the friends were soon chattering away about the upcoming final. They were just discussing how long they thought the match might last – rumor was that it had gone on for five days the last time around – when Mrs. Weasley interrupted.

"Alright, you lot," she said. "There'll be plenty of time for Quidditch talk at the match – Arthur's booked you adjacent campsites, you know. In the meantime, however, let's get what we came for, shall we?" The group followed the Weasley matriarch through the pub and out into the back courtyard, where a tap of bricks granted them access to Diagon Alley. After a quick trip to Gringotts to refill their money bags, Lily consulted her watch.

"Alright," she said. "It's half eleven now – let's all meet at two in front of Fortescue's, and if we need anything else afterwards, we'll take care of it then." The others were agreeable to the suggestion, and they soon split off into smaller groups – the adults remained at the Leaky Cauldron to catch up over drinks; Fred and George headed to Gambol and Japes in search of their best friend Lee Jordan; Harry, Ron, and Draco decided to start at Quality Quidditch Supplies; and Ginny and Hermione, eager for a girls' day out, went to Madam Malkin's.

"I can't believe how much I've grown in the last year," Hermione commented as they walked. "It's no wonder I need new robes!"

"Don't forget you need dress robes as well," Ginny reminded her. "I'm kind of sad they're not on my list – I guess that means only the upper years are invited to the ball."

"It can't hurt to look," Hermione said. "I'm sure they can't bar upperclassmen from inviting younger students – lots of people date across years, after all – and someone like you is bound to get asked."

"'Mione, stop!" Ginny chided, blushing as red as her hair.

"What? It's true – you're gorgeous, Gin," Hermione said matter-of-factly. They'd reached their destination by then, and a little bell tinkled overhead as they pushed the door open and entered the shop.

"Good morning, girls." Madam Malkin was a short, squat witch with a kind smile and friendly demeanor. "What can I help you with today?"

"Well, for starters, I need some new school robes," Hermione said. "We're both looking for dress robes as well."

"Ah, yes," Madam Malkin said knowingly. "Let's get your uniform situated first, and then I'll talk to you about the formalwear."

It didn't take long at all for Madam Malkin to pin and magically hem Hermione's new robes, and once she'd packaged them up, she led the two girls to the back of her shop, where a few racks of brightly colored material stood waiting.

"Now, there are a few things you need to consider when selecting dress robes," Madam Malkin began, gesturing for the girls to take a seat on a nearby bench. "First question to ask yourself: Wizarding, or Muggle?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Well, 'dress robes' is a bit of a misnomer," Madam Malkin explained. "Unless you're talking about an old pureblood high-society event, 'dress robes' generally means formalwear of any kind. I don't know if you've noticed, but your school uniforms aren't what wizards would consider full robes – Hogwarts uniforms feature open robes, held together by a clasp in front, with collared shirts and either trousers or a skirt beneath, while true robes are pulled over the head and sewn shut all the way around, leaving no need for additional layers, excepting perhaps an outer cloak in cold weather."

"So our uniforms are essentially a combination of Wizarding and Muggle styles," Ginny said.

"Correct – I believe that was done to make Muggle-borns more comfortable, but the trend caught on, and many adult wizards continue to dress in a similar manner after they leave school. You really only see the old pureblood families still wearing full Wizarding robes," Madam Malkin said. "In any case, it gives you a bit of a choice to make when considering your formalwear – obviously, the open robe doesn't really work in that scenario, so do you go with formal Wizarding robes, or do you opt for Muggle-style attire? Either is perfectly acceptable." Ginny and Hermione looked at each other as they considered their options.

"I think I'd like to try a Muggle dress, personally," Ginny said. "I seem to recall that formal robes are a bit limited in their choices, no?"

"Correct again," Madam Malkin replied. "That is the one downside to robes – they can only be cut so many ways and still be considered robes, as they feature no buttons, zippers, clasps, or closures of any kind. Muggle dresses are quite a bit more flexible in that regard. Now that you've answered your first question, you move on to the next: color, and cut."

The girls spent the next twenty minutes browsing the racks, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the pretty colors and soft fabrics. Once they'd made their selections, Madam Malkin tailored the dresses for a perfect fit, and she applied a special charm to the fabric to account for growth.

"I've done the same to your school robes," she said to Hermione. "You're at the age where you can suddenly grow half a head overnight, and it'd be a shame to be stuck with too-short clothes or a dress that suddenly doesn't fit the night before the ball. The charm allows the garment to enlarge accordingly for the course of one year."

"Thank you very much," Hermione replied as she accepted the garment bag containing her new dress. "You've been extremely helpful, I appreciate it."

"Anytime, girls," the seamstress replied with a smile. "Do send photos when the ball rolls around, and tell your friends to do the same – it'll be good to get some new images in here." The girls agreed, and with a final farewell, they left the shop.

"We've still got time to get the rest of our school stuff," Hermione said with a glance at her watch. "Let's get that over with, and then we'll go get some ice cream."

The girls made trips to the apothecary, the supply shop, and Flourish and Blotts before it was time to meet up with the others. Dragging slightly under the weight of all their purchases, they made their way to the ice cream parlor.

"Right on time!" Lily said as Hermione and Ginny set their things down by one of the outdoor tables. She squealed when she saw their garment bags. "Ooooh – did you find dresses for the ball?"

"We sure did," Hermione replied, smiling at Lily's inner girly side. "We'll show you later – we don't want the boys to see them just yet." She waved then, and Lily turned to see Harry, Ron, and Draco coming up the street, their arms laden down with shopping bags.

"Any time they'd like to start making weightless textbooks is fine with me," Ron said as he slumped into a chair. "Phew!"

"Oh, stop being dramatic," Ginny said with a laugh. "I think you'll live. You only had to buy what, two new books?" The twins and Lee joined them just then, and the group headed inside the ice cream parlor, where they found a familiar face conversing with one of the employees.

"Eloise!"

The curly-haired blonde turned at the sound of her name and smiled, though she blushed bright red when she saw the size of their group.

"Hi," she said. "Out getting your school things?"

"Mhmm," Ginny said. "We just finished, and now it's time for some ice cream. What brings you here?"

"Oh, just dropped in to say hi to my brother," Eloise replied. She gestured to the employee she'd been talking to when they walked in – on closer inspection, it was obvious they were related, as he had the same blue-green eyes and freckled complexion, though his sandy hair was a bit darker than his sister's and had no hint of a curl. "Everyone, this is Dan. Dan, this is…Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Draco, Ron, Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Black, Lee, Fred, and George." Eloise gestured to each person in turn as she introduced them. "Or maybe it's George and Fred…oh, bother, I can't tell you two apart!" She groaned, turning red again.

"No worries, Eloise," the twins said. "Even we get each other mixed up sometimes!" This declaration drew a laugh from everyone, and they quickly fell to examining the menu before lining up to order.

"Lissie, you didn't tell me you were so popular!" Dan joked as he scooped strawberry ice cream into a dish.

"Oh, don't you start with me, Daniel Louis Midgen!" she huffed.

"Oh, don't you get all worked up at me, Eloise Annelise Midgen!" Dan replied in a perfect imitation of his sister's tone. He winked, and Harry and Hermione, who were closest, laughed heartily at the exchange – Eloise was normally so quiet and shy at school, so it was fun to see this more natural, lighthearted side of her as she bantered with her brother, with whom she was obviously quite close despite the age gap.

Once they were all settled back out on the patio with their ice cream, Mrs. Weasley broached the subject of the World Cup once more.

"Have you heard anything about your Portkey yet, Sirius?" she asked. "I just got the information about ours yesterday – departs at just after five in the morning!"

"Goodness, that's early!" Lily exclaimed, swallowing a bite of mint chocolate chip. "I think ours leaves at half seven, so I guess we'll be meeting you at the campsite." Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement.

"Well, you'll be meeting Arthur and the kids, anyway. I'm not going to the match, but you should all definitely come over afterwards for a farewell dinner before everyone goes back to school."

"That sounds perfect," Lily agreed. "Have you heard anything more from Albus about the preparations for this year's…event?"

"I haven't, but last I heard, everything was progressing very smoothly," Mrs. Weasley replied. "The kids are in for a real treat, that's for sure."

"Won't you just tell us what's happening this year, Mum?" Fred asked.

"And ruin the surprise?" she scoffed. "I should think not. Besides, Dumbledore requested that it be kept a secret, and so it shall be kept a secret." Fred rolled his eyes as soon as his mother had turned her back.

"She and Dad have been dropping hints about this 'event' all summer," he said to the others. "Percy's been the worst, strutting around and rubbing it in that he knows something that we don't. Hopefully it's actually something interesting, and not Percy's definition of it – if it's something Percy thinks is interesting, then I'm afraid it's about as cool as that report on cauldron bottom thickness he's been boring us with for the last three weeks." Harry, Hermione, and Draco snorted, knowing that in spite of Fred's jokester tendencies, his comment about his older brother's lectures was probably true.

"Time to head out, everyone," Lily said as she set her spoon into her dish with a clink. "We've got a lot to do before the World Cup and very little time in which to do it!" They returned their dishes to Dan, who gave them a wave and a "Nice meeting you", gathered up their bags, and said goodbye, the Weasleys heading towards the Leaky Cauldron's Floo while Sirius, Lily, and company returned to Muggle London. Once in the car, Harry, Hermione, and Draco couldn't help but shout in delight once more – the countdown to the Quidditch World Cup had begun!

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**A/N: I made a minor change to the last chapter to account for an event in the previous story - it wouldn't make sense for Eloise to be writing to her brother (ISAR ch. 16) if he were still at Hogwarts with her, so he's now a recent Hogwarts alum, having been in seventh year when they were in second. That then prompted the whole scene in Fortescue's...this chapter kinda took on a life of its own, haha.**

**Thanks to everyone who's joined me for the newest adventure through follows/faves/reviews - you guys are the best!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	3. The Campground

"Draco - hey, Draco! Wake up!"

"Go away," Draco mumbled.

"It's time to get up," Harry repeated, sounding impatient.

"Five more minutes?" His brother rolled over to face the wall, pulling his pillow over his head, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. Draco had never really been much of a morning person.

"I mean, it's not like we have to leave in twenty minutes to catch a Portkey to the World Cup, or anything," Harry said casually. He smirked when Draco shot up as if burned, his blankets slumping to the floor as he threw them off in his haste to get up.

"Prat," Draco muttered, chucking his pillow at Harry's head. Harry gave him a cheeky grin and threw the pillow back before bolting out of the room, his mission accomplished.

"Morning!" Sirius said cheerfully as Draco took his seat at the kitchen table and helped himself to some toast.

"It's too early for this," Draco groaned. He was still half-asleep - how was anyone so chipper at this hour? His comment resulted in a bark-like laugh from Sirius.

"I seem to recall that you've had no trouble waking up at five on Christmas morning...pretty much every year you've been here," Sirius reminded him pointedly.

"Christmas doesn't count - that's different," Draco insisted.

"If you say so," Sirius said with a wink. "We're leaving in ten, so make sure you're ready! If you're really that tired, you can take a nap at the campsite after breakfast."

They left the house at seven on the dot - it was only a ten-minute walk to the park where they were supposed to meet their Portkey, but they wanted to make sure they had plenty of time. The walk was mostly a quiet one, save for a few greetings towards Hermione and renewed declarations of excitement - in spite of Harry and Sirius's earlier energy, it seemed that Draco wasn't the only one still fighting sleep.

"Could be worse, you know," Sirius said as he pushed open the park's gate and let them through. "The Weasleys' Portkey left two and a half hours ago." He withdrew a piece of parchment from his pocket and consulted it. "Says here that we're looking for a deflated football. This park isn't very big, but we'll probably find it a bit faster if we split up. Harry and Draco, go left. Lily and Hermione, you go right, and I'll go straight." The group began to wander the park, keeping their eyes peeled for their Portkey.

"Here - it's over here!" Lily called a few minutes later. The boys hurried to join her, all staring at the punctured ball. It was rather scuffed and dirty as well, and the combined effect made the object look utterly woebegone.

"Are we waiting for anyone else, Lil?" Sirius asked.

"Don't think so," she replied. "Molly said that their letter specified that they were to wait for the Diggorys, and ours doesn't say anything like that, does it?"

"Nope. Guess it's just us. Anyone else around here either isn't going or is already there."

"How would they be already there?" Hermione wondered, stifling a yawn.

"People with cheaper tickets had to get there earlier," Lily explained. "They staggered the arrival dates and times - there are a hundred thousand people going to this game, so there'd be some major congestion if they hadn't. We just barely made the cutoff for arriving the day of the game - Molly was telling me that one of the families near them has been there for two weeks already."

"Whoa," Harry muttered. "Glad that wasn't us!"

"Almost time to go," Sirius said with a glance at his watch. "Wanna do the charms, Lil?" Lily nodded, and after a quick glance to make sure they were truly alone, she withdrew her wand and cast the Glamour Charms they'd used when the children were small - they didn't use them for trips to Diagon Alley and the like anymore, but the Quidditch World Cup was a huge event, and they weren't willing to take any chances. As Harry resembled his late father more every day, and the aristocratic good looks of the Blacks were highly recognizable as well, Lily lightened their hair to a deep chocolate shade once she'd finished the usual charms on Draco and herself.

"Remember - when we're in the tents, your real names are fine, but anywhere else, your aliases are a must," Lily reminded them. The children nodded solemnly to show they understood, and Sirius held out the football.

"Everybody grab on - just a touch will do." It wasn't long before the Portkey glowed blue, and they all felt a jerk like a hook behind their navels as they disappeared.

"Oof!"

"Sorry - probably should've warned you about that," Sirius said with a grin. He and Lily, having traveled by Portkey before, had managed to remain upright, but the children had ended up in a tangled heap on the damp grass.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Harry accused as he stood up.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Sirius said airily. Harry jumped on his back in response, and the two tussled for a minute before Lily pulled them apart, scolding them to behave.

"Half past seven from...Merlin, this writing is atrocious," someone said. "Some park in Surrey, it looks like?" They looked up to find a wizard, a pocket watch in one hand and a clipboard in the other. His ensemble, which consisted of a poncho and a kilt, clearly showed that he wasn't used to wearing Muggle clothing.

"Good morning," Lily said amiably. "That's right, we're the party from Surrey. Just the five of us, then. We have a campsite - I believe it's under Arthur Weasley's name?" The wizard consulted his clipboard.

"Hmm...yes, he did mention that the rest of his party would be coming later," he said. He handed them a map, a large red circle pointing out the location of their campsite. "First campground - best way there is straight down this path, then take a left at the fork."

"Thank you," Lily said as she accepted the map. Leaving their football in a box filled with discarded Portkeys, they set off through the trees and soon came upon a huge field, where hundreds of tents sat in neat little rows.

"You can tell that most of these people have no idea what a tent's supposed to look like," Harry commented as they made their way through the site. The tents were indeed rather extraordinary - they saw weathervanes, chimneys, functional windows, bubbling fountains, and three-story structures of brightly colored silk. A group of African wizards, clothed in yards of intricately dyed cloth, sat talking around a purple fire that was shooting blinding sparks ten feet into the air, and they saw several small children riding miniature broomsticks in the lawns outside their parents' tents. A number of harassed-looking witches and wizards, all sporting badges with the Ministry's emblem, seemed to be doing their best to quell the most obvious displays of magic, but there were so many strange things going on that their efforts didn't seem to be getting very far. Finally, they reached a campfire surrounded by a family of redheads they all knew well.

"Hey, you lot!" George greeted them as they approached. He did a double take when he saw their altered looks. "Damn - almost didn't recognize you!" The rest of the present Weasleys - Fred, Ron, Ginny, and their father - said hello as well and invited them to have a seat.

"What's for breakfast?" Sirius asked. Lily smacked his arm.

"Don't be rude," she scolded. "We brought some sausages, Arthur - Molly said you had the eggs. I thought all of your children were coming? You seem to be missing a few..."

"They're Apparating, so they got to sleep in," Ron said, sounding grumpy. "Mum woke us up at four..."

"Oh, go take a nap, Ronniekins," Fred said, his tone suggesting that this was far from the first time they'd had this exchange.

"He can't," Ginny pointed out. "He'd miss breakfast, which is even more of a travesty for Ron than losing sleep." They all laughed, and Ron looked sheepish - it was no secret how much the youngest Weasley male liked food.

Just then, three redheaded figures came striding into view.

"Morning, all," Percy said smugly. "We've just Apparated."

"Obviously," Ron muttered under his breath. Harry and Hermione snorted.

"Morning, boys," Mr. Weasley said. "Percy, I think you know everyone here, but I'm not sure Bill and Charlie do..." He gestured towards the other two young men behind Percy. One was tall and lean, wore his long hair in a ponytail, and had what looked like a fang dangling from one ear. The other was shorter and stockier, like the twins, and the skin on his hands and exposed forearms was shiny with what they recognized as burn scars.

"Bill, Charlie," Mr. Weasley said, "This is the group of people we told you about." He paused and looked at Lily. "Er...is it safe to introduce you properly?"

"Yes, go ahead," she replied, "although I do appreciate the caution, Arthur."

"Of course. This is Lily and Harry Potter, Sirius and Draco Black, and Hermione Granger," Mr. Weasley said. "My eldest sons, Bill and Charlie."

"Pleasure to meet you," the shorter one said, offering a hand to Sirius. This one had to be Charlie - Ginny had told them that he worked on a dragon reserve in Romania. The taller one, then, was Bill, the eldest Weasley child and a curse breaker for Egypt's branch of Gringotts. Individual introductions and handshakes were passed around, and the trio decided almost immediately that they liked the newcomers. Mr. Weasley announced that breakfast was ready, and as they sat down to eat, talk naturally turned to the match.

"I still say there's no way the Bulgarians can cope with Ireland's Chasers," Ginny said. "They scored more goals in the first round than all of their opponents _combined_, and they're the masters of the Porskoff Ploy, which everybody knows is one of the hardest moves to consistently get right."

"The Irish can use all the fancy moves they want, but that doesn't change the fact that the Bulgarians have Viktor Krum," Ron argued. "Bloody brilliant, he is – only just eighteen, did you know that? Best Seeker in the world, and he's only a few years older than we are! And we get to see him in the flesh!" He stared at nothing for a long moment, an awed expression on his face at the thought of seeing his idol play.

"Good Chasers can run up the score so much that even a Snitch capture can't save their opponent, Ron," Charlie reminded him. In addition to his passion for dragons, Charlie Weasley had been an exceptional Seeker himself whilst at Hogwarts, so good, in fact, that Oliver Wood had once declared that the redhead could've played for England if he hadn't pursued his career in Romania.

"Forget the players," Draco said quickly. "We know it's going to be a brilliant game regardless – these teams wouldn't be in the final otherwise. How about the fact that we get to see _fourteen_ Firebolts in action tonight?" The Firebolt was the fastest, newest racing broom on the market, having just been released the previous year, and while a handful of star players had found the bucketful of Galleons necessary to obtain one, this was the first major tournament featuring entire squads mounted on the breathtaking brooms. The Firebolt's zero-to-one-fifty-in-ten-seconds acceleration alone made Quidditch fans' hearts skip a beat at the mere thought – the thought of actually _seeing_ that acceleration, _live,_ made the assembled young people positively shiver with delight and anticipation.

Once they'd finished breakfast, the group soon found themselves with nearly an entire day's worth of time to kill before the match, which wasn't scheduled to begin until sundown. A quick catnap gave them a boost of energy – both Draco and Ron were noticeably happier afterwards – and they decided to do some exploring. Mr. Weasley had told them over breakfast all about how ardent fans of each side liked to decorate their tents to show their support – as he hadn't specified a preference when booking their campsite, their tents were on neutral ground, but he marked a few places on their map where he assured them they'd find a strong presence of one side or the other. Harry thanked Mr. Weasley as he accepted the map, and with a promise to his mother that they'd be careful, he, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny set off through the crowd.

The friends saw a number of their schoolmates as they made their way through the neutral camp, and Ginny, Ron, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the confused looks directed towards Harry and Draco – apparently, the Glamour Charms were doing their job. They nodded politely to some Ravenclaw classmates and greeted Oliver Wood enthusiastically – Harry discreetly revealed their identities before congratulating his former Keeper on his acceptance to Puddlemere's reserves.

"Don't go disappointing me, Oliver," Harry told him in a mock-scolding tone. "Puddlemere's been my favorite team since I could walk, you know."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Wood replied cheerily. "Not with such a command from my Seeker!" They chuckled and exchanged friendly slaps on the back, promising to keep in touch now that Oliver was out of Hogwarts.

The neutral campground ended shortly after the Woods' tent, and it wasn't long after that the friends immediately understood what Mr. Weasley had meant. The explosion of green left no doubt that they were in Irish territory – shamrocks, especially those of the lucky four-leaf variety, dangled off tents in an abundance that would've made Professor Sprout proud. Gigantic Irish flags flew on tall poles stationed at intervals throughout the camp, and a rainbow periodically arced over their heads from one side of the lot to the other. The very air smelled fresh, and the friends grinned happily as they ventured further along.

Many other familiar faces appeared in the Irish camp, most noticeably those of Seamus Finnigan and his best mate Dean Thomas, their fellow Gryffindor fourth-years. Seamus had proudly spoken of his Irish heritage since day one at Hogwarts, and as such, when he demanded to know if they were supporting his side, they vehemently said yes, even though most of them didn't really care who won so long as the game was good. They then had a decidedly less pleasant encounter with Marcus Flint, who sneered pointedly at the three teenagers he recognized and ignored the two he didn't.

"Surprised to see you here, Weasley," Flint said. "Your family go hungry for the summer to get restricted view seating – behind the mascots on the pitch, perhaps?"

"Real clever, Flint," Draco deadpanned. "How long did it take you to come up with that one, hmm? If you'd spent as much time studying as you did coming up with mediocre insults, you'd have left Hogwarts on time." Flint flushed angrily and turned to face Draco.

"Who do you think you are?" he spat. Draco nonchalantly studied his fingernails, a technique he'd learned worked perfectly when he was trying to maneuver encounters with his housemates in his favor.

"No one of consequence," he said calmly, knowing that his evident disinterest would only rile up his former captain more. Smirking slightly at the physical evidence that he'd done his job well, he said, "Enjoy the match, Flint – we'll let you know if we can find you from the Top Box." Flint's jaw dropped, and the friends barely held in their giggles as they left the former Slytherin behind.

"Drake, that was _brilliant!"_ Harry said as they passed yet another row of shamrock-infused tents. Draco merely shrugged.

"Gotta know 'em to beat 'em," he replied.

"What was that about leaving Hogwarts on time?" Ginny asked.

"Goodness, I thought everybody knew this," Draco said. "At least – everyone in Slytherin did. Flint failed his sixth year and had to repeat it – how he retained his captaincy with such an abysmal academic record is beyond me."

"Wouldn't surprise me if there was some sort of bribery or blackmail involved," Ron suggested. "Dad says his father's one of the ones who likes to make trouble at the Ministry."

This conversation took them over the crest of the next hill, and the valley below was in such stark contrast to the camp they'd just left that they all stopped and blinked in surprise. Where the Irish camp was a sea of bright color, the Bulgarians had a much different approach – their flag flew proudly throughout, but instead of plants, the tents featured Wizarding posters of their star Seeker, Viktor Krum.

"Bit intimidating, yeah?" Ron muttered as they walked. Poster-Krum stared at them as they passed, but his expression wasn't very friendly, and his thick eyebrows and large, slightly Snape-esque nose didn't help much.

"Goodness, I hope he looks a little less annoyed when he's on his broom tonight," Ginny remarked. "Playing Quidditch tends to make me happy, not want to glare at everyone I see."

They returned to their own campsite shortly thereafter and spent the remaining hours playing Exploding Snap and wizard's chess before a quick dinner, and then it was finally time to head towards the stadium.

"Don't forget your spending money," Lily reminded them as they prepared to leave. "The vendors here have all sorts of neat stuff."

It was the understatement of the century – the children didn't know which way to turn first as they passed people selling souvenir programs, rosettes that shouted the players' names, Irish and Bulgarian flags that played their nations' anthems when waved, miniature figurines, and clothing and accessories of all sorts. Sirius and Arthur took care of the programs for each member of their respective groups, and the youngest Weasley children immediately bought trinkets supporting both sides, Ginny choosing a green rosette and a Bulgarian scarf while Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a Krum figurine. After some thought, Harry, Hermione, and Draco selected Omnioculars, special binoculars with dials to slow down, replay, or explain the action. They were a tad expensive, but Bill, who already owned a pair after having watched a few international matches in Egypt with some friends, assured the trio that they were well worth the investment.

The crowd grew thicker as they made their way towards the stadium, and colorful lanterns lit a path through the trees. The stadium itself was a sight to behold, a massive structure emitting a soft light from its golden outer walls, and people were singing and laughing as they headed through the many entrances. Anthems blared from all sides as souvenir flags waved, and they could hear the Weird Sisters' latest hit reverberating throughout the stadium. Finally, they reached the entrance and handed the Ministry witch their tickets.

"Prime seats, Arthur!" the witch said. "Top Box – straight up these stairs, as high as you can go. Mr. White, you'll want the seventh level up, left-hand side."

"Thank you," Sirius said, responding to his alias without hesitation as he took the tickets.

"Enjoy the game!" she replied. They began to climb the stairs, the crowd thinning gradually as they ascended. When they reached the seventh level, Sirius's group exchanged quick hugs and handshakes with the Weasleys.

"You're not that far below us," Ginny said. "See if you can find us with the Omnioculars – I'll wave!"

"We will, Gin," they promised, and they said goodbye once more before parting ways.

"Third section over, first seats in the top row," the wizard handling that level's tickets instructed them. It didn't take them long to find their seats and they filed in, pleasantly surprised with how comfortable they were. Sure, it wasn't the Top Box, but Sirius had done extremely well for not having the contacts that Mr. Weasley did.

"Don't expect any Christmas gifts this year," he joked as he passed out their programs. They laughed, and remembering their promise to Ginny, the trio turned their Omnioculars towards the Top Box. They spotted Ginny almost immediately – the petite redhead was waving furiously in their general direction, and when they noticed she was holding Omnioculars of her own, no doubt temporarily borrowed from Bill, they waved back. She grinned broadly at them and flashed them a thumbs-up before waving goodbye and retreating to her seat.

The inside of the stadium was just as incredible as the outside – more people than they'd ever seen in their lives were slowly but surely taking their seats, and the fifty-foot goal hoops shone bright as a newly polished Galleon. The enormous scoreboard was flashing magical advertisements in foot-high letters, and the gradually appearing stars overhead gave the whole scene an almost ethereal effect.

Suddenly, Hermione squealed.

"Look!" she cried. The scoreboard's final advertisement, one for Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, had vanished, and the screen now read _Bulgaria: 0, Ireland: 0._

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" a voice boomed. "WELCOME TO THE FINAL OF THE FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!"

* * *

**A/N: And here we go! Next chapter will be up soon - it's game time! (Of course, I'm impatient to get to the tournament, but we're not quite there yet...)**

**Thank you so much for all the follows/faves/reviews, and for reading in general!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. In case you're curious, the Porskoff Ploy is one of the moves described in _Quidditch Through the Ages. _Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)  
**


	4. Ireland vs Bulgaria

The crowd's reaction to the announcement was deafening. Stomps, cheers, and claps erupted throughout the stadium as all the excitement and anticipation of the day finally came to a head.

"Welcome!" the announcer repeated. A quick glance at the program told Harry that he was Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and former star Beater for both the Wimbourne Wasps and the English national team.

"On behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch Committee and the British Ministry of Magic, it is my pleasure to welcome you to tonight's match between Bulgaria and Ireland – we hope you enjoy the show! And now, without further ado, please welcome the Bulgarian team mascots!" Harry glanced at the program again: _Presentation of Mascots – Bulgarian veela and Irish leprechauns._

"What are veela?" he asked.

They got their answer when a door near the base of the stadium opened and a group of the most beautiful women they'd ever seen emerged. Silky, white gold hair flowed to their waists, milky skin and teeth gleamed like moonlight, and their facial features had an otherworldly aura, reminding Harry of the goddesses in his mother's old Greek mythology storybooks. As if their physical beauty wasn't enough, soft, sultry music began to play, and the veela started to dance.

"Crap," Lily muttered, having suddenly remembered what veela could do. "Hermione, help me hold them back!" Hermione was momentarily confused by Lily's request, but she quickly grabbed hold of Harry and Draco's collars when she realized what was going on. The veela – she wasn't sure if it was the music, the dancing, or the creatures themselves, but it was definitely them – were having a distinct effect on the male spectators. Harry and Draco merely looked stunned, but many of the men around them were much more affected, some even straining to break free of wives' or girlfriends' grips. The struggles only increased as the performance increased in volume and tempo, and many women gave audible sighs of relief when the music finally stopped.

"And now," said Bagman, the veela having settled gracefully onto the grass at one end of the pitch, "give it up for the Irish team mascots!"

The leprechauns made an impressive entrance, shooting out of their doorway in the shape of a gigantic sparkling comet, which broke in two and raced around the stadium at top speed before meeting back in the middle in an explosion of multicolored fireworks. Gold pieces rained down on the cheering crowd from an enormous rainbow, and the leprechauns tipped their hats in salute as they took their seats opposite the veela.

"Leprechaun gold vanishes after a few hours, so don't get too excited," Sirius chuckled. The trio, who'd been scrambling for the fallen coins, pouted slightly at the admission, but they perked up immediately when Bagman's voice sounded once more.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for…I give you…THE BULGARIAN NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM!" The Bulgarian supporters leapt to their feet in an explosion of cheers and tumultuous applause.

"Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad player shot out of a hidden tunnel so quickly that he seemed a red blur.

"Holy Merlin!" Draco muttered. Harry didn't have to ask his brother to elaborate – if the Firebolt seemed that impressive during a mere player introduction, he couldn't wait to see it in game play.

"Ivanova!"

A second Bulgarian player joined the first.

"Levski! Volkov! Vulchanov! Zograf! Aaaaaaand…KRUM!"

The noise level rose impossibly higher as Krum's name was announced, and the trio quickly focused their Omnioculars on the Bulgarian Seeker. The prominent scowl from the posters was gone, but he still looked rather indifferent as he slowed to a stop by his teammates.

"May I present…THE IRISH NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM!" Bagman shouted. The Irish fans roared their approval.

"Moran!"

The first of Ireland's Chasers burst from her team's tunnel, her emerald robes flying behind her.

"Mullet! Troy! Connolly! Quigley! Ryan! Aaaaaaand…LYNCH!"

"And finally, our esteemed referee, Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, all the way from Egypt, please welcome Hassan Mostafa!" Mostafa was a skinny man with a shiny bald head and an enormous mustache. He stopped exactly in the middle of the center circle and bowed to each section of the crowd before kicking open the trunk at his feet and bringing a shiny silver whistle to his lips. The short, sharp blast cut through the night like a gunshot.

"And they're off!"

Harry immediately discovered that reading about the Firebolt's speed and seeing it in action were two very different things. The players rocketed around the pitch so quickly that they became nothing more than streaks of color, and Bagman barely had time to say their names as the Quaffle flew from Chaser to Chaser.

"Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – back to Troy – Dimitrov – Ivanova – Moran – Moran going for goal – drops to Troy – Mullet – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO IRELAND!"

The Irish anthem blared as the emerald-clad supporters celebrated the first goal of the match and the brilliant execution of their Chasers' signature move.

"Levski – Mullet – Moran – Levski – "

And on it went. Draco had his Omnioculars trained on the Chasers and was jerking his head back and forth so quickly that Harry was afraid he'd get whiplash – occasionally Draco fiddled with the knobs, and Harry knew he was watching some of the more impressive moves in slow-motion replay, no doubt wishing he could reenact some of them himself. The Beaters on both ends were merciless, hitting the Bludgers with an almost inhuman strength and sending the Quaffle flying from the opposing Chasers' hands on more than one occasion.

Fifteen minutes later, Ireland had netted three more goals, bringing the score to forty-zero in their favor. Moran was streaking towards the goalposts yet again when she found her path blocked by Levski – unable to get out of the way in time, she collided hard with the Bulgarian and went spinning off in the opposite direction, dropping the Quaffle in the process.

"FOUL!" screamed the Irish supporters.

"And it's a penalty against Bulgaria for blatching!" Bagman informed the crowd. Moran flew forward to take the penalty, but she was still dizzy from her collision and missed by several feet.

The game only got dirtier from there. Elbows flew in all directions, resulting in another penalty for Ireland and two for Bulgaria – the score then stood at fifty-ten Ireland when Irish Keeper Ryan blocked the second penalty – and one of the Bulgarian Chasers was nearly unseated by an unseen Bludger. An hour later, Ireland had just scored their fifteenth goal when Mullet took a Bludger to the head. She fell from her broomstick and plummeted downward, but although mediwizards were on hand to stop her fall, she remained unconscious and was rushed away for immediate medical attention. No injury-related substitutions were allowed in professional Quidditch, so the Irish side would have to make do with only two Chasers until Mullet was able to return.

The Irish team seemed to take their Chaser's injury to heart and threw themselves back into the match with such a fierce brutality that Harry was very glad he was merely a spectator and not a participant. Connolly and Quigley, the Irish Beaters, attacked the Bludgers as if they held personal vendettas against the iron balls, and Troy and Moran did their best to make up for their missing partner by executing a series of impressive Quaffle volleys over the Bulgarians' heads. They scored twice more before one of the Bludgers connected with the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, winding him.

Mostafa's whistle blew, signaling the foul – it was illegal to attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle was inside the scoring area – but it was the veela that drew the crowd's attention. The attack on their Keeper, combined with the leprechauns' rude taunting, which had been going on for the last half hour, had finally made them lose their cool, and they jumped to their feet, glowing balls of fire materializing in their hands. Their beautiful faces elongated into cruel beaks that would've made a hippogriff cower in fright, and massive wings erupted from between their shoulder blades as they shrieked and lobbed their fire across the field at the leprechauns. Ministry wizards immediately rushed onto the field, attempting to placate the dueling mascots, but several fled in terror as fires sprouted dangerously close to their clothing and hair.

"This is insane!" Harry cried, his vision darting everywhere as he tried to determine where to keep his focus. The match was still very much in progress, the players moving faster than ever, and shouts came from below as the mascots' battle raged on. Mullet returned to the game a few minutes later, a large bandage wrapped around her head, but hardly anybody noticed, so great was the chaos both above and below. Even the referee was out of commission, as one of the veela had hit his broom tail with a fireball and he was now desperately trying to avoid the flames.

"LOOK!" Hermione suddenly shrieked. In the midst of all the action, the two Seekers had suddenly taken an almost completely vertical dive, heading straight for the mascots.

"The Snitch – I see the Snitch!" Harry cried. The little golden ball was hovering just above the surface of the field, almost impossible to spot in normal circumstances and even more so in the current confusion.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione cried, anxiously jumping up and down on the balls of her feet.

"No, they're not!" Draco shouted back.

They were both partially right. Lynch didn't pull out of his dive in time and smashed headfirst into the ground, while Krum calmly glided back upwards as if nothing had happened. Harry barely had time to think the words _Wronski Feint_ before he realized that Krum hadn't been feinting at all – instead, the Bulgarian Seeker was holding his fist aloft, a glimmer of silver just visible through his fingers, and the scoreboard was flashing _Bulgaria: 160, Ireland: 170._

"Krum's got the Snitch!" Harry yelled. "It's over!"

It took the spectators a minute to realize what had happened, but once they did, the Irish supporters absolutely exploded. Fireworks burst overhead, adding color and even more noise to the celebration, and the leprechauns abandoned their battle with the veela to reform their comet, whizzing around the stadium and showering their ecstatic fans in gold once more. The veela, having given up when they saw that the match was over, shrank back to their human forms and sat sulking on the field, and the Irish team took a victory lap before shooting upwards and forming a huge shamrock with their brooms and outstretched bodies. The crowd then watched as both teams made their way into the Top Box, which was filled with light so all could see, and Bagman congratulated both sides on their performances before Minister Fudge presented the victorious Irish with an enormous silver trophy.

"What a match!" Sirius declared as they stood to leave. "They'll be talking about that one for ages!"

"I can't believe Fred and George actually won their bet!" Harry commented. The Weasley twins had done a bit of gambling earlier in the day, betting their combined savings that Ireland would win, but Krum would catch the Snitch. It was a risky move to be sure, but the match's unusual outcome had no doubt just won them a fair bit of gold.

"Let's head back – the celebrations are going to go on all night, and you won't want to miss a minute of it!" Lily said, ushering the children out of their seats. Indeed, people were already singing and shouting happily throughout the stands, their calls echoing back as they slowly filtered out of the stadium. Harry, Hermione, and Draco hurried forward into the moving crowd, Lily and Sirius close behind. They couldn't wait to reunite with the Weasleys and discuss what had just happened.

* * *

**A/N: Quite a bit shorter than the last one, but I hope the excitement makes up for it. Same outcome with my own twist on the details - hope you liked it!**

**Thank you, as always, for following/favoriting/reviewing and reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	5. In the Wood

In spite of the extremely long day they'd had thus far, the atmosphere in the Weasleys' tents suggested that nobody was going to bed anytime soon. As soon as they'd all returned, the friends broke into excited conversation.

"Can you _believe_ how tight their Hawkshead Formation was?" Ginny asked Draco. "And seeing the Porskoff Ploy in action…they were incredible!" The two immediately set to recounting their favorite goals – as Draco played Chaser on the Slytherin team and Ginny hoped to do the same for Gryffindor someday, they'd both been mesmerized by the professionals' skills and were soon lost in their own world. Harry and Charlie struck up an animated conversation about the Seekers' performances, Ron occasionally chiming in with his thoughts about Krum, and Hermione was laughing loudly as Bill and the twins talked about the other occupants of their box.

"He actually let him do that all day?" she gasped, barely able to hold back her giggles. Fred had just told her about Minister Fudge, who'd been desperately attempting to mime everything for the Bulgarian Minister all day, only to finally learn at the end of the match that the other man actually did speak English.

"Yup," Fred said, chuckling at the memory. "Fudge went all spluttery and was like, 'why?' and the Bulgarian Minister just told him he thought the miming was funny."

"Now, Fred, mind your manners," Mr. Weasley scolded, though he too was hard pressed to hide his amused smile.

"Honestly, Father, you're too lenient with them," Percy sniffed. "The blatant lack of respect towards our Minister is, quite frankly, disgusting."

"Oh, stuff it, Perce," Bill said. "It's all in good fun, and we all know Fudge could stand to be knocked down a peg or two." Percy huffed but didn't say anything further, preferring to sulk in silence instead.

"And how about those mascots, eh?" Charlie said then, turning to address the group as a whole. "Not every day you see a fight like that!"

"Forget the fight," Ginny said with a giggle, "how about what you lot all did when the veela first showed up?" Her brothers immediately protested, but Hermione interrupted.

"What'd they do, Gin?" she asked eagerly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table.

"Well, Dad, Bill, and Charlie all plugged their ears, so they weren't affected, but you should've seen everyone else!" Ginny snickered. "They all had these looks on their faces like they had to do something impressive pronto – Fred and George started doing some weird sort of interpretive dance, Percy was actually drooling, and Ron was just about ready to take a swan dive out of the Top Box by the time the music finished!"

"I was most certainly not drooling!" Percy said indignantly.

"Oh, you most certainly were," Ginny replied. "I took pictures." Four cries of _"Ginny!"_ were immediately drowned out by everyone else's laughter.

"Let the veela be a lesson to all of you, boys," Mr. Weasley said, "that you should never go for looks alone!" The young men in the room all immediately stopped laughing and flushed bright red, while the girls erupted into a fresh wave of giggles.

"Who's for some hot chocolate?" Lily asked then. Nearly everyone responded in the affirmative, and they were soon enjoying steaming mugs of the sweet beverage. Discussion and dissection of the match continued, and it was nearing two in the morning before the adults finally decided it was time for the teenagers to go to bed. The girls bid the boys goodnight and headed to their tent next door, and the boys retreated into the back of the larger tent to change into their pajamas. Less than ten minutes after they'd climbed into bed, they were all sound asleep.

"Harry…Ron…everyone, wake up, now!"

"Huh?"

"Wha's goin' on?"

"Get up, quickly!"

The bunk beds creaked and groaned as Harry, Ron, Draco, Fred, and George slowly sat up and rubbed sleep from their eyes, their confused gazes eventually focusing on Mr. Weasley, who looked extremely agitated.

"Dad, what?" George muttered. "It's…three-thirty in the morning?"

"No time to explain," Mr. Weasley replied. "We've got to get out of here. Put some shoes on – no, you don't have time for jeans, Ron – make sure you have your wands, and let's go!"

"But what-"

"Don't ask questions, just do it!" The boys immediately fell silent – Mr. Weasley was one of the most laid-back people they knew, so if _he_ was this upset, something was definitely wrong.

They met the girls outside the entrance to the tent – both had jackets on over their pajamas and looked extremely sleepy.

"Listen to me," Mr. Weasley said. "You lot need to go into the woods, as quickly as you can. There's some trouble in the camp, and that's where we think it's best for you to go." As soon as they'd left the tent, they understood what he meant by 'trouble' – the singing from earlier had been replaced by frantic screaming, and brightly colored lights kept shooting into the sky.

"Find a safe spot and wait for us there, and we'll come find you as soon as we can," Mr. Weasley continued. "We're going to go see if we can help sort this out." The teenagers nodded to show they'd understood, and the group split up, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Sirius, and Lily heading towards the lights while Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny made for the wood.

"What d'you reckon's going on?" Ron asked as they walked.

"No idea," Harry replied. Another shout cut through the night, and they increased their pace – it seemed like the troublemakers, whoever they were, were getting closer. They could now see fires burning close by, and the distinct smell of smoke was nearly upon them.

"Well, well, well." Harry and Draco immediately drew their wands as they turned to face the owner of a voice they knew all too well.

"Nott," Harry spat. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Nott replied. "Not enjoying the show, are you? Nice outfits, by the way." Unlike Harry's group, Nott was fully dressed, and he looked almost relaxed as he reclined against a tree.

"You enjoy what sounds like people being tortured?" Hermione asked. Unbeknownst to her, her guess of what the attackers were doing wasn't actually all that far off.

"Did I ask your opinion, Mudblood?" Nott sneered. Harry, Draco, and Ginny all raised their wands higher at the offensive term, but Hermione merely scoffed.

"Can't come up with anything more original?" she mocked.

"Why should I, when the original works just fine?" Nott retorted. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Let's keep going," she said, glaring at Nott once more. "I don't see the need to put up with certain…_people_ any longer."

"Feeling's mutual, let me assure you," Nott drawled. The quartet backed away from the lone Slytherin, not daring to lower their wands until he was out of sight.

"Bastard," Harry muttered.

"You're too nice," Draco replied. "Nott doesn't even deserve that…"

"Hang on, where'd everyone else go?" Ginny said suddenly, sounding panicked. It was true – thanks to their confrontation with Nott, they'd lost Ron and the twins.

"I'm sure they're fine," Hermione said reassuringly. "They probably just didn't realize we'd stopped – if we keep going, we might be able catch up to them."

The atmosphere in the wood was a vast mixture of emotions. Some people didn't seem to know that anything was amiss – they saw a group of young men trying to chat up a trio of veela, and goblins counted bags of gold around a blazing fire. However, there were others who'd obviously heard of the disturbance and were just as worried as they were, including a group of French teenagers who only looked more troubled when Harry and his friends weren't able to help them find someone they'd lost. Having gone beyond the reach of the lanterns, they lit their wands and continued further into the wood before they finally stopped in an empty clearing.

"This seems as good a place as any," Draco said with a shrug as he sat on an old stump. "It's no good trying to find the others in here, and we're far enough in that I think we're alright for now, so we might as well wait." Harry, Hermione, and Ginny concurred that it was a reasonable enough suggestion, and they sat down to wait.

They'd been sitting for five minutes or so when a snapping twig broke the silence. All four were on their feet in an instant, their wands drawn.

"Hello?" Harry called. "Who's there?" He immediately regretted calling out – it was a rather foolish thing to do when they didn't know if the intruder was friend or foe – but it was too late to take it back. However, there was no answer, only a further snapping of twigs that gradually grew softer, as if the person was retreating. The friends stood perfectly still, eyes scanning the clearing. Then, the unknown person spoke a single word:

_"Morsmordre!"_

A blinding light lit up the clearing as it shot upwards, and a huge form began to take shape over the trees. When the form solidified into a gigantic skull, a long serpent protruding from its open mouth, Hermione screamed, Harry gasped, and Draco went white – the symbol was one he recognized all too well from his childhood, a symbol he'd hoped never to see again: the Dark Mark.

_"Stupefy!"_

"Duck!" Ginny shrieked. She'd just managed to catch the distinct 'pop' of Apparition and immediately fell to the ground. The trio followed suit and dropped to their knees, covering their heads with their arms as half a dozen bright lights flew across the clearing.

_"Stop!"_ A voice shouted suddenly. Harry could've cried in relief as he recognized the voice – it was Mr. Weasley!

"Arthur, what are you on about?" a second voice demanded.

"That's my daughter!" Mr. Weasley snapped back. "My daughter and her friends!"

"Really, now?" The foursome on the ground cautiously lifted their heads. Mr. Weasley was breathing heavily and stood next to a slate-haired wizard with a neat pencil mustache. The final man was stocky and had a large, scruffy beard. It was this last man who had spoken, and he glared at the teenagers in what was obviously supposed to be a menacing way.

"Which one of you did it, then?" he demanded.

"Er…what?" Harry asked.

"Which one of you did it?" the bearded wizard repeated. "Which one of you conjured the Mark?"

"Amos, don't be ridiculous!" Mr. Weasley cried.

"Arthur, they were found at the scene of the crime!" the man shot back. "Unless there's someone else here, who else could've done it?"

"Um…sir?" Hermione said timidly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there _was_ someone else here…"

"Who? Who was it, girl?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "None of us do. We just heard them rustling around – over there, I think – and then we heard the incantation. I don't know where they went after that."

"You seem to know quite a lot about this," the wizard said, sounding suspicious. "How do we know-"

"Amos, if you're that concerned about it, search the immediate vicinity of the clearing for traces of magic," the mustached wizard interrupted. The man called Amos grunted, clearly unhappy with the situation, but did as the other suggested.

"Something definitely happened here," he said after a few minutes, "but there's no body, and no trace of Apparition. How do you explain that one?"

"Amos, that's enough," the mustached wizard snapped. "Get your head on straight and think about what you're saying! Do you really think a mere child could conjure the Dark Mark?"

"You-Know-Who was still in school when he got into all that business," Amos retorted. "Of course it's possible."

"Amos, do you know who these children are?" Arthur cut in. "The redhead is my daughter, Ginny, and the other three are Harry Potter, Draco Black, and Hermione Granger." Amos' eyes went wide at the mention of Harry and Draco's names, and Arthur continued, "Given what you know about their particular families, do you want to rethink your earlier statement?"

"The Glamours!" Hermione whispered suddenly. Draco and Harry knew what she meant the instant they looked at each other – somehow in the fray of spells, their Glamour Charms had lifted.

"That's – that's the Malfoy kid, isn't it?" Amos said suddenly, recognizing Draco's telltale platinum hair.

"Unless you're suggesting a four-year-old can cast that spell, back off," Arthur said sharply.

"A four-year-old?" Amos asked. "These kids are teenagers!"

"Draco was four when he left the Malfoys' care," Arthur replied. "Unless Voldemort suddenly lets toddlers into his Death Eater meetings, I think he's cleared."

"But-"

"Amos, enough. If you're really that worried about it, cast _Priori Incantatem_ on their wands."

"I – yes, Barty, I think I will." Amos held out his hand. "Your wands, if you will." Harry and the others merely brought their wands closer to their chests.

"It's alright," Mr. Weasley reassured them. "Just do it, please." They reluctantly handed them over, and one by one, Amos touched their wands' tips to that of his own and said, _"Priori Incantatem"._ In each case, a little cloud puffed from the wand and expelled a burst of light.

"A simple _Lumos_ charm," the man they assumed was Barty said. "Was that the last spell any of you cast?" The four friends nodded.

"We lit our wands ten minutes or so before we found this clearing," Harry said. "It was too dark to see without them."

"There you have it," Barty replied. "Now, Amos, if you'll give them back their wands, I'm sure they'd like to be getting back to bed. And next time, do think about whom you're talking to before you start throwing accusations." His last statement sounded very severe, and Amos looked abashed as he handed back their wands and Disapparated.

"I'll be going now, Arthur – there's going to be a lot to do in order to clear this up."

"Yes, there will be," Mr. Weasley agreed with a sigh. "I'll be in later today – have to get everyone home first. Thanks for your help, Barty." The other wizard nodded, turned on the spot, and vanished.

"What the hell just happened?" Harry asked bluntly. Ginny was shaking like mad while Hermione tried to comfort her, although it was clear that the brunette was just as distressed.

"We're not completely sure, but we think the people who attacked the camp were a group of Death Eaters," Mr. Weasley replied, "especially given the appearance of the Mark. They seemed to think such a large gathering of wizards was an opportunity to have some 'fun'. Whether the caster of the Mark was with the group or not, we don't know – the latter seems more likely, though, since almost all of the attackers Disapparated as soon as they saw it. As for the two people with me, they were Barty Crouch and Amos Diggory – they both work at the Ministry."

"Diggory?" Draco asked, sounding intrigued. "As in, Cedric Diggory?"

"His father, I believe," Mr. Weasley answered. The friends pondered that for a moment. Cedric was a Hufflepuff boy a few years ahead of them at Hogwarts, and he was known for being pretty easygoing – they couldn't seem to comprehend how such an overbearing man could be his father.

"That's the same Crouch Percy works for?" Ginny said.

"Yes."

"Why did he sound so annoyed about what Mr. Diggory said?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Mr. Crouch's family has been affected by Death Eaters just as much as yours," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "He was once Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – primed to be the next Minister, really – when a group of Death Eaters was caught in the midst of a truly gruesome bout of torture. One of those Death Eaters was his own son."

"No!" Hermione gasped. "That's horrible!"

"That's not the half of it, I'm afraid," Mr. Weasley replied. "Crouch's son was thrown in Azkaban and died less than a month later – he was very weak to begin with, and Azkaban's harsh atmosphere isn't forgiving on the healthy, never mind the sick. His wife was so distraught over the whole situation that she died not too long after her son, consumed by her grief. The Ministry decided that they couldn't trust someone with that kind of history to lead the law offices, never mind the whole operation, so he was pushed aside to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He's head of that department now, but it took him a while to work his way up, and there are plenty of people at the Ministry who still don't trust him. It's rather a shame – he might seem cold, but he really is a good man." No one spoke as they mulled over everything Mr. Weasley had said – Harry and Draco, who knew all too well what it was like to have your family torn apart by Voldemort, understood that Mr. Crouch had been dealt quite the blow.

Arthur led the quiet group out of the wood and through the ruined campground. Pieces of trampled tents lay scattered upon the ground, and a number of fires were still smoldering.

"Pretty random how they went about it, really," he said as they walked. "Our tents were fine, but the ones directly across from ours are completely gone – the whole campground's like that. Not that it matters, of course – the most important part is that none of you are hurt."

"What happened to the others?" Draco asked suddenly. "Ron and the twins – we lost them just after we reached the woods and haven't seen them since."

"They're fine," Mr. Weasley replied. "We found them pretty easily, and they were the ones who told us you'd gotten separated." They'd reached the edge of the campground, where a long line had formed in front of the Portkey departure point. They caught sight of Lily and Sirius halfway up the line and ran to join them.

"Oh, thank goodness you're alright!" Lily said breathlessly as she hugged each of them. "We're going to get a Portkey out of here as soon as we can – Arthur, the rest of your group left a little while ago, so we'll take Ginny home with us and get her back to the Burrow from there. We already sent a Patronus to Molly. "

"Thanks, Lily," Mr. Weasley said. "I really don't want to, but I do need to get to the Ministry – they'll need all hands on deck for this one. Take care and be safe." With one last wave, he Disapparated.

They had to wait nearly forty-five minutes, but they finally reached the front of the queue.

"A Portkey to Surrey, please," Lily said, giving the wizard the name of the park from which they'd left the day before. It wasn't long before he handed her an old tin can.

"Grab on, everyone," Lily said. They crowded in close to reach the Portkey, and a flash of blue light and a tug had them spinning back home once more.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks very much for the follows/faves/reviews, and to all of you for reading! Please do let me know what you think of this chapter - back to Hogwarts soon!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	6. Explanations at Last

Harry had never been so relieved to hear his alarm go off on September 1. The final days of the summer holiday had been filled with nothing but tension and worry, and he was more than ready to hop on the Express and get away from it all. They hadn't seen the Weasleys since the World Cup – both sets of parents had confined their children to their houses until they absolutely had to leave – but they'd heard Mr. Weasley's report when he'd stopped by to update Lily, Padfoot, and the elder Grangers. Apparently, the Ministry had succeeded in apprehending a few of the troublemakers from the World Cup, but the ones they'd captured either weren't willing to rat out their co-conspirators, or couldn't – in any case, the prisoners seemed to rank very low on the totem pole and were a disappointing lack of information.

Though Mr. Weasley and his colleagues were still dealing with a vast number of complaints – mostly false ones related to damaged property – their biggest problem was actually the _Daily Prophet._ The morning after the match, the paper featured a moving image of the Dark Mark splashed across the front page, accompanied by a short article.

_Witches and wizards from around the globe had yet to finish drinking themselves into a stupor over the controversial ending of last night's Quidditch World Cup final (see p. 5 for a detailed account) when terror struck,_ writes Rita Skeeter, correspondent._ A band of hooded figures, masked and dressed in black, Apparated into the campgrounds where fans were staying and began wreaking havoc on the site, setting fires and torturing as they saw fit. Mere moments later, the Dark Mark, a sight essentially unseen since You-Know-Who disappeared thirteen years ago, appeared over the wood. As the number of injured arriving in St. Mungo's continues to climb, one cannot argue that the Ministry's decision to decline comment screams of blatant disregard for the Wizarding public's safety. How can we overlook such a disgraceful display? Watch this space in the days to come._

Mr. Weasley had groaned and run his hands over his face as soon as he'd seen the article – Rita Skeeter, he explained, was a journalist with a penchant for sensationalism and very little conscience, a combination that almost always guaranteed trouble. It didn't matter that the Ministry swiftly responded with a statement of their own saying that the casting of the Mark was actually much later than 'mere moments' after the attackers' first appearance, or that in fact only three people had been admitted to St. Mungo's and that they'd been treated for burns, not torture – Rita had already planted the seed of doubt, and clearing up the rumors was proving to be a very messy business indeed.

"Morning, Harry," Draco said as he slid a platter of toast across the table. "Got everything packed?"

"Hope so," Harry replied, taking the seat across from his brother and helping himself to breakfast. "I don't think I've ever actually wanted to get out of here this badly before." They passed the rest of the meal in relative silence, ensured that their trunks were locked and ready to go, and were soon on their way to Kings Cross. It was the smoothest start to a school year yet, and they had no trouble finding themselves an empty compartment in which to stow their things. Once their trunks were safely in the luggage racks and Hermione had let Crookshanks out to stretch, the trio returned to the platform to say their goodbyes.

"Have a good term," Padfoot said as he ruffled Harry's hair. He winked and added, "Stay out of trouble."

"That's rich, coming from you," Harry snorted. He then turned to hug his mother. "See you soon, Mum."

"Probably later than usual, I'd think," Lily replied. "Once you find out what's going on at Hogwarts this year, I guarantee you'll all want to stick around at school for the holidays."

"You mean we're finally going to know what the big secret is?" Draco asked as Lily embraced him as well.

"I think Dumbledore intends to tell you tonight," she said with a smile. "In any case, you'd better tell me all about it – Hedwig and Berenice don't get nearly enough exercise." The boys had the decency to look sheepish – they'd written home nowhere near as often as they probably should have the previous year.

"We'll try to be better," they promised. After one last round of hugs, Lily shooed them onto the train, and they waved from the window of their compartment until the Express began to move and the platform disappeared from view.

"What a week," Harry muttered, flopping down into his seat. "I thought September would never come…"

"Do you think they've sorted anything out – at the Ministry, I mean?" Hermione asked. "That Rita Skeeter woman left them with quite a mess…"

"No, they haven't," said Ginny, who had just entered the compartment.

"Oh – hey, Gin."

"Hey yourself," Ginny replied, taking the empty seat next to Hermione. "No, they haven't finished sorting everything out – Skeeter just prints a new piece every time they try, and they end up back at square one. It's getting kind of ridiculous – George suggested that Dad save all the articles in a scrapbook for when he needs a laugh."

"Any more hints about what's going on at Hogwarts?" Harry wondered.

"Nope, none. Percy was even more irritating about it this last week, what with his dropping vague suggestions all over the place, but nobody gave us anything concrete."

"Not talking about the so-called 'event of the century', are we?" said a new voice.

"Blaise!" Hermione cried. "And Tracey, too! Oh, it's so good to see you both!" The two Slytherins joined them on the benches, Blaise propping his feet up on the opposite empty seat.

"Good to see you as well, Granger. Good summer?" Hermione giggled a little at Blaise's use of her surname – he'd called her that back in first year when they were barely acquaintances, and though he'd switched to her given name as they'd grown closer, the old habit occasionally came back. Most of the other Slytherins used her surname out of spite, but coming from Blaise, it was actually rather endearing.

"Besides the last week, yeah," she replied, and she immediately launched into a retelling of their summer adventures.

"Too bad we couldn't be there for that," Blaise remarked when Hermione got to the part about their dance lessons. "I'll bet that was loads of fun – much better than the stiff classes I suffered through as a kid, at any rate."

"You can dance, Blaise?" Draco asked. "Since when?"

"Mate, I'm Italian – romance is what we do. Of _course_ I know how to dance!" Laughter filled the compartment at Blaise's declaration.

"What about you two?" Hermione continued. "Anything interesting happen this summer?"

"On my end, not really," Tracey admitted. "My father's really strict, so I'm pretty limited in what I'm allowed to do over the holidays."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, you know – only allowed to associate with certain people, only allowed to be seen in certain places, stuff like that. Have to make sure we 'keep up our image'." She used air quotes for the last phrase and frowned. "Rubbish, all of it. I had to jump through hoops just to be able to hang out with Blaise, and even then, we had to pretend it was all an alliance thing, versus us actually being friends. Way better than the afternoons I had to spend with Pansy Parkinson though."

"Ugh," Hermione said with a shudder. "I'm so sorry, Trace!" Tracey shrugged.

"It's over, that's the important part."

"Blaise?" Draco said. "What'd you get up to – besides the whole stuffy pureblood act, that is."

"Well, my dear mother's getting married in October," Blaise replied.

_"Again?"_

"Yup," Blaise nodded. "This one's number seven. Surprised it took her this long, really – the last one died two years ago."

"That's an awful lot of name changes," Harry remarked. Blaise shook his head.

"Oh, no, she's never changed her name – not even when she was married to my dad, and he was her first husband. She's always been Maria di Venezia."

"Whoa, hold on a minute," Ginny interrupted, holding up a hand to emphasize her request. "Maria di Venezia?"

"Yes," Blaise said, a little stiffly. "Maria Antonia Christina di Venezia, to be exact."

"Holy…Blaise, you never told us that _Mia Antonia_ was your _mum!"_ Ginny looked shocked, but her statement didn't seem to have the effect she'd anticipated, as Harry, Draco, and Hermione merely looked confused.

"Right – Muggle neighborhood," Ginny muttered, and she began rummaging in her bag, eventually extracting what turned out to be a glossy magazine.

"Since when do you read _Witch Weekly?"_ Hermione asked in disbelief.

"I don't," Ginny replied. "Mum gets it for the recipes. She gave me this issue because it has some great hairstyle ideas we might like to use for the ball, but that's not the point…" She gestured towards the magazine's front cover. "Mia Antonia," she said, "also known as one of the most beautiful witches in the entirety of Wizarding Europe."

The title was definitely warranted – the woman on the cover had a smooth complexion the color of warm cocoa, captivating dark brown eyes, and legs that went on forever. Her ebony locks were pulled back in an elegant twist, and though she was obviously much older, she didn't look a day over twenty. The simplicity of her outfit, rather than detract from her beauty, only seemed to enhance it, and she exuded confidence and poise unlike anything they'd ever seen.

"Blaise," Hermione muttered, "your mum's gorgeous."

"Careful," Blaise warned. "The supermodel looks don't show you what's on the inside."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, my mother isn't even forty, yet she's on her seventh husband in fourteen years. You don't find anything odd about that? She might be 'Mia Antonia' in the fashion industry, but the underground circles call her 'the Black Widow' for good reason."

"You really think those rumors are true?" Ginny said. Blaise snorted.

"Gin, it's too much of a coincidence to think that all six of those ridiculously rich bastards died of natural causes, each leaving behind a mountain of gold in my mother's name and a clear path for the next equally ridiculously rich bastard to come along. And that, of course, doesn't account for the string of lovers she had in between each of those marriages…she hasn't openly pledged herself to Voldemort's cause, but my mother's no stranger to the Dark Arts."

"But you're so…you," Hermione said, seemingly unable to come up with a better word.

"Not her?" Blaise suggested. "I know – and only because I made myself that way. My father – my birth father, that is – was a good man. Worshiped the ground my mother walked on, and my mother reciprocated the affection. I think he was the only man she ever really loved, because when he died, she was devastated. It was then that she began to turn to darker pursuits, and though I was still really small, I was smart enough to realize that what she was doing was bad. Right then, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't become my mother – cruel, bitter, and regretful with nothing but piles of cold Galleons and desperate older men to love me. It's been hard, believe me, but it's better than the alternative."

"Blaise, that's awful," Hermione said quietly.

"No, really, Hermione, it's ok," he replied. "She doesn't know it, but I sneak out and spend a lot of time with my uncle during the holidays – he and my dad were twins, and I've learned a lot more about my dad from him. My mother's not the type to ask where I'm going, and it's actually worked out really well. If anything, I'm almost grateful for it – the whole situation's taught me that there's no such thing as black and white when it comes to people, only a million shades of gray."

The sweets trolley came by not too long after that, and the friends spent the rest of the journey swapping chocolate frog cards and discussing the year to come. In addition to the unknown event taking place at Hogwarts, Blaise reminded them that they would be getting a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this term as well, and they spent nearly an hour debating who might fill the post this time around. Rain began to fall as they neared Hogsmeade – by the time they'd reached the station, it was coming down in sheets, and the friends sloshed through the mud as they raced for the carriages that would take them the last leg of the journey to Hogwarts.

Everyone was anxious and impatient to hear Dumbledore's start-of-term announcements – Harry had heard plenty of other students gossiping about the surprise event on the way into the Great Hall – and as a result, the Sorting seemed to take even longer than usual. The new first-years, all of them drenched, trembled as they faced the rest of the school, and one particularly tiny boy, who was wrapped from head to toe in Hagrid's gigantic overcoat, excitedly informed them that he had actually fallen _into_ the lake when he eventually took his place at the Gryffindor table.

"Only Colin Creevey's brother could be so ecstatic about nearly drowning," Harry chuckled as he helped himself to some chicken. It seemed enthusiasm was a family trait.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dumbledore set down his knife and fork, and the remnants of dinner faded away.

"Good evening, all," he said as he stood up to address the assembled students. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I would like to extend a kind reminder to all students that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits, and using magic in the corridors between classes is not allowed. If you have any questions about items banned in the castle, please see the list on Mr. Filch's door. I would also like to introduce Alastor Moody, former Auror and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." He gestured to the man sitting beside him, who stood and gave a curt nod. His face was riddled with scars and his eyes were mismatched – one was a normal eye, while the other was twice as large and bright blue.

"Moody!" Harry whispered excitedly to Hermione. "Mr. 'Constant Vigilance' himself – I've heard he was one of the best Aurors the Ministry ever had!"

Dumbledore paused and smiled a little, his blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight as the students hung on to his every word. "I'm sure many of you have heard rumors about a special event taking place this year, and I'd like to tell you a little more about it before those rumors get out of hand. I must inform you that the inter-house Quidditch competition will not be taking place this year-"

"What!" Several people gasped in shock at this statement, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"Ah, youth and their Quidditch," he said fondly. "I hope you will forgive me for that once you hear the reason – it is my great pleasure to announce that this year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry didn't know what the Triwizard Tournament was, but it seemed like quite a few people did, as there was a veritable eruption of excited chatter at the conclusion of Dumbledore's statement. The headmaster held up his hands and patiently waited for the whispers to fade.

"Allow me just a few more minutes," he said. "It seems that some of you have heard of the Triwizard Tournament before, but I'd like to extend that knowledge to all of you before I send you off to bed. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago and is a friendly competition between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and the Durmstrang Institute. An impartial judge chooses a champion to represent each school, and the champions compete in three magical tasks, which take place throughout the school year. The winner takes home the Triwizard Cup, enhanced recognition for their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

The whispers immediately resumed. _A thousand Galleons!_

"Originally, each school took it in turn to host the tournament once every five years, but the tournament was eventually discontinued due to the mounting death toll," Dumbledore continued. "Now, however, our Ministry has decided that the time is right to attempt to reinstate the tournament once more, and we will be welcoming the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang at the end of October. I must warn you, however, that there will be an added age restriction this year. Only students who are of age – seventeen or older – will be allowed to enter. This is," and here Dumbledore had to raise his voice to be heard over the many indignant protests, "a precaution we feel is necessary, given that the tasks will still be highly dangerous in nature and involve magic too complex for those below N.E.W.T. level. I hope that you will make our guests feel welcome throughout their stay, that you will support Hogwarts' champion with everything you have, and that you will take advantage of the wonderful opportunities afforded you by this tournament. And now, as it is late and you all have lessons in the morning, I must insist that you go to bed. Off with you!"

* * *

**A/N: And they're back! So excited...**

**Thank you for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading! Makes my day.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	7. Constant Vigilance

For the next several days, all anyone could talk about was the Triwizard Tournament. Many students, especially those with seventeenth birthdays just after the deadline, expressed their displeasure at the new age restriction, but most of the talk was positive curiosity – what sort of tasks would the champions face, what would the foreign students be like, and how the school year would differ from years past. Never before had the students so eagerly awaited Halloween, and they thought it almost cruel that Dumbledore had teased them with such a monumental event, only to then inform them that they'd have to wait nearly two months for it to begin.

"Honestly," Hermione said as the friends discussed the tournament one afternoon, "I think the most disappointing aspect of the age restriction is that the delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will all be older. In addition to the competition aspect, a big part of this is the chance to foster relationships amongst the students from the involved schools, but it'll be a lot harder to make friends with people who are at least three years older than we are."

"I agree," Harry said. Blaise, Tracey, Draco, and Ginny, who were sprawled over various surfaces in the Room of Requirement, nodded as well. Their homework, which was scattered all over the coffee tables, lay abandoned in favor of the current discussion. "I mean, Wood's got four years on me, but we have Quidditch as a common link – if we hadn't had that, I doubt I would've known much about him at all. Most of my close friends are within a year of me."

"I know what you mean," Blaise added. "I doubt I even know the names of half of the upper-year Slytherins, never mind anything remotely close to what a friend might now."

"Same for the Gryffindors," Harry agreed. "And it goes the other way, too – obviously we all know you, Gin, but you're my only good friend in third year, and I definitely don't know any of the first- or second-years."

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens," Tracey said with a shrug. "Anybody mind going over Summoning Charms with me? I know it's not nearly as fun as tournament talk, but we've still got almost two months 'til the delegates arrive, and this essay's due next Tuesday…"

* * *

The other hot topic of discussion was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and stories spread like wildfire as students who'd already had the class talked to friends who hadn't. If the stories were to be believed, Moody's first lecture was a bit of an eye-opener, but very interesting, and the Gryffindors couldn't wait to find out if their new professor lived up to all the hype. Harry and Hermione in particular were eagerly anticipating the class, as they'd heard plenty of anecdotes about Moody from Lily and Sirius and wanted to meet the man many considered to be one of the finest Aurors the Ministry had ever seen.

On Thursday morning, the Gryffindor fourth-years filed into the Defense classroom, feeling excited. A hush fell over the classroom as Moody made his entrance, an odd _thunk_ on every other step hinting at a wooden leg. His gray hair was long and thick, and his scars seemed much more intimidating up close – they looked rough and uneven, almost as if carved by knives. His extra-large eye swiveled around freely, even rolling right into the back of his head once or twice as he surveyed the class, and he took his time to study each student in turn as he called their names from his register.

"Now," he said quietly as he finished the roll call, "it is my job this year to teach you about the Dark Arts, a topic that has become even more important in recent times." The students didn't need to ask him to elaborate – they'd all seen the summer editions of the _Daily Prophet,_ which had carried front-page stories about Peter Pettigrew and his capture for weeks. They remembered all too well Pettigrew's attack on the Fat Lady, their common room's guardian, and those who hadn't been a part of Harry and his friends' adventures last June had been horrified to discover how easily a mass murderer had stayed undetected in Hogwarts for so long. The naïve belief that they were completely sheltered while at school had shattered, and learning how to defend themselves was now much higher on their priorities lists.

"Professor Lupin gave me a comprehensive overview of your studies from last year," Moody continued, his gruff voice keeping their attention without effort, "and I was quite impressed with what he told me. You've got a solid foundation in the study of Dark creatures, and that knowledge could definitely come in handy someday. However, in the three years you've been here, your previous professors have covered very little, if any, material regarding Dark curses. Now, the Ministry thinks you shouldn't be seeing stuff like that until N.E.W.T. level, but what of those of you who don't make it that far? Your enemy's certainly not going to take into account whether you pursued Defense Against the Dark Arts beyond your fifth year before he hexes you, and the Death Eaters, for one, don't care how old you are. Therefore, you must do everything in your power to be prepared – CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He barked out the final phrase, causing nearly everyone in the room to jump.

"Constant vigilance," he repeated. "You must never let yourself be caught off guard, never – one mistake can mean the difference between life and death. I've only got a year with you – agreed to it as a favor to Dumbledore, and then I'll return to my retirement – and I intend to prepare you as best I can in the short time we have. Now, while we certainly can't cover all the curses that are out there this year, we can still make a fair bit of progress, and so we'll start with the obvious ones today and go from there. Who can tell me what the Unforgivable Curses are?" Many of his classmates were surprised when Neville raised his hand – though he grew ever more confident as time passed, Neville was still largely unsure of himself when it came to most subjects and rarely offered answers unless a professor called on him first. Moody gestured for him to speak, his magical eye still rolling unchecked in its socket.

"There are three, and the use of any one of them on another human being is cause for a life sentence in Azkaban," Neville said slowly.

"You're Neville Longbottom, yes?" Moody asked, checking his register once more. Neville nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Ah – you'd know all about that then, wouldn't you?" Moody murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Yes – the Unforgivables are so named for a reason, and they're the specialty of many Death Eaters." He waved his wand, and three names appeared on the blackboard. He pointed to each one as he spoke.

"The Imperius Curse – compels the victim to do the caster's bidding. Can be fought, but it's not easy, and it can get tricky when you try to sort out who's actually under the Imperius and who's acting of their own free will. As I'm sure you've all read in the papers, Peter Pettigrew used a form of this curse on Professor Quirrell during your first year, and it gave the Ministry a lot of trouble when Voldemort was at the height of his power. The Cruciatus Curse is the torture curse, a favorite of many Death Eaters. And finally, _Avada Kedavra,_ the Killing Curse – recognizable by the signature flash of green light and the lack of any noticeable mark on its victims. There's no counter curse for it, and no one's ever survived it." The class remained silent as Moody finished his speech.

"I know it's not a pleasant thought, but you've got to know. You might only be fourth-years, but these curses are out there, right now, and there's no proof that you won't run into someone tomorrow who's more than willing to use all three on you right then and there. I guarantee that every single one of you has been affected by at least one of these curses, whether directly or through someone you know. When the only thing you can do is prepare yourselves, it's best to start as soon as you can. Constant vigilance, my friends – constant vigilance." The bell rang just then, and the students started – they'd been so focused on the lecture that they'd temporarily forgotten where they were.

"Homework – fifteen inches on the Unforgivable of your choice," Moody said. "To be handed in next class. In the meantime, constant vigilance. You're dismissed."

"That was probably the most brutally honest lesson we've ever had," Harry said as they followed their classmates to the Great Hall for lunch.

"In an oddly good way, though," Hermione said. "I mean, it's something we need to know, and I'm glad he's not sugarcoating it."

"You alright, Nev?" Harry asked. Neville had been unusually quiet since they'd left Moody's classroom.

"Yeah," he said, letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "The lesson was…just a bit tough, that's all." When Harry and Hermione gave him quizzical looks, he continued, "I…well, there's a reason I live with my gran, you know. My parents were Aurors, and they found themselves on the wrong end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand – the Cruciatus Curse is her specialty. Needless to say, she took it too far."

"Oh, Neville," Hermione whispered, her eyes watering. "I'm so sorry." Neville shrugged.

"I was barely a year old when it happened – I know it sounds horrible to say, but I hardly knew them. I don't really know anything except life with Gran, because it's basically always been that way. Not that I don't go visit my parents, of course – at least I can still do that," he said, with an apologetic glance at Harry.

"So now I know the curse that killed my dad, and would've killed my mum and me, if Voldemort had had his way," Harry mused. "And I'm sure plenty of our classmates have lost friends and family to that curse as well."

"Draco, for one," Neville pointed out. "Well, the Cruciatus, at least, since his aunt basically did the same thing to his father that she did to my parents. I guess we can't say for sure about the Killing Curse, since we don't know how his mother actually died."

"All the same, people's lives have been torn apart by these curses," Hermione said sadly. "And though we're still young, it's like Moody said – age won't hide the fact that these horrible curses exist, so we just have to do our best to be ready. Constant vigilance."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all had a lovely Halloween - I dressed up as Hermione &amp; the kids at school loved it! Sorry for the shorter-than-usual chapter, but I think the next one will go all the way through the selection of the champions, so hopefully that'll make up for it.**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	8. The Contingency Plan

The fourth-years' lessons continued in a haze of spell casting, potion brewing, and essay writing. Hagrid horrified his Care of Magical Creatures classes when he introduced them to vicious, armored creatures he called 'Blast-Ended Skrewts' – for now, the Skrewts looked like miniature scorpions, but Harry was sure that they would grow at an alarmingly rapid pace until they were something only Hagrid himself would willingly approach. They learned very quickly that the Skrewts were dangerous even in their 'baby' stage, as the critters had a tendency to shoot sparks out their rear ends (or perhaps it was actually their heads – both ends looked so similar that it was hard to tell) when the students least expected it, and they frequently returned to their common rooms nursing minor burns.

Their other classes proved difficult as well. Snape made them all nervous when he announced that they should be prepared to test the effectiveness of the poison antidotes they were learning to brew, and Professor Flitwick had them researching the theory behind a Summoning Charm, which was extremely useful if done properly but quickly proving to be the hardest thing they'd ever attempted in Charms. The focus required for academic success was a welcome distraction from the upcoming tournament, but everybody silently agreed that they could've done with about half the homework.

In spite of their mounting piles of work, the students still managed to find time for fun. The Quidditch players, lamenting the loss of their season, decided that there was no harm in making use of the pitch anyway, and it wasn't long before impromptu pickup games became the highlight of everyone's weekends. In fact, so many people wanted to join in that it wasn't uncommon for a scrimmage made up entirely of students from a single class year to start – Harry, Draco, and their sheer number of Quidditch-crazy friends ensured that the fourth-years were some of the most frequent flyers, and they spent long hours tossing Quaffles and avoiding Bludgers as they hovered high above the ground.

Before they knew it, it was the end of October. The night of the other schools' arrivals saw a flurry of nervous activity at Hogwarts as the Heads of House ensured that their students looked presentable and ushered them into neat rows on the castle's front steps. Six o'clock came and went, and the anxious students began scanning their surroundings for any sign of their guests.

"How d'you think they're getting here?" Blaise asked Draco as they waited with the other Slytherin fourth-years.

"No idea," Draco replied as he absentmindedly scanned the grounds for what felt like the fiftieth time. "I doubt they'd take the train – probably want to make an entrance, wouldn't you think?"

No sooner had he spoken did a shout erupt from near the front of the group.

"Look – over the forest!" one of the first-years called.

At first, the object floating over the forest was nothing more than an indistinguishable blob above the trees, but as it drew closer, they realized it was a carriage; a gigantic, pale blue carriage pulled by winged horses easily twice the size of any normal stallion. The crash that their hooves made on impact shook the ground as the carriage slowly rolled to a stop.

"Why's the carriage so big?" Tracey whispered. "Are they not sleeping in the castle?"

"Maybe not," Draco said with a shrug. The carriage's size, however, was immediately explained when the door opened and the largest woman any of them had ever seen stepped forward – she would not have looked out of place next to Hagrid, Draco thought. In spite of her formidable size, however, the woman was very elegant, sporting finely tailored clothing and glittering gems on her fingers and at her throat.

"Ah, my dear Madame Maxime!" Dumbledore said as he stepped forward to greet the woman. "Welcome, welcome to Hogwarts! I hope your journey was a pleasant one?"

"Dumbly-dorr," the woman smiled graciously, her deep voice like a purr in the night. "Ze journey was no trouble, thank you. May I present my pupils?" She waved her hand to her side, where a dozen boys and girls, all in their late teens by the looks of them, stood by the carriage's open door. Most of them were shivering slightly, and a closer look at their robes, which were the same pale blue as the carriage, revealed that they were made of a thin, silky material that would do very little in providing warmth from the chilly Scottish evening.

"Perhaps you would like to step inside and warm up a bit?" Dumbledore suggested. "Igor and his students should be here shortly."

"_Oui,_ that would be lovely, thank you," Madame Maxime replied. The Hogwarts students parted to allow their guests to pass, and as soon as the Beauxbatons delegates were inside, they returned their attention to the grounds.

For a long moment, all was quiet. Then, quite suddenly, they heard what sounded like a giant sucking sound. The astonished students turned as one and watched as an enormous ship slowly surfaced from beneath the lake's depths. The ship, which was rather skeletal in appearance, glided slowly towards the shore, and they heard the distant splash of an anchor breaking the lake's formerly smooth surface. They watched interestedly as a group of people disembarked and made their way slowly across the lawn towards the castle. At first, it seemed that the Durmstrang delegates were all exceptionally tall and bulky, but as they got closer, the Hogwarts students realized that the majority of the bulk was due to the thick furs the newcomers wore. Durmstrang's location was a fiercely guarded secret, but it was obvious that the school was located somewhere much further north.

"Dumbledore! Pleasure to see you!" a voice boomed. The voice belonged to a man they presumed to be Durmstrang's headmaster. He was tall and thin, with short silver hair and a matching goatee, and his eyes were dark and cold.

"Igor Karkaroff!" Dumbledore returned, shaking hands amiably with the other man. "Welcome to Hogwarts! Do step inside – I daresay the feast is almost ready." Once again, the Hogwarts students parted to let the others through. It wasn't long before gasps and disbelieving whispers began rippling through the crowd.

"What is it?" Draco asked Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw boy to his immediate left.

"It's Viktor Krum!" Terry replied excitedly. "I had no idea he was still in school, but the people up front say there's no mistake!"

"Viktor Krum?" Blaise said. "Well, that'll keep things interesting, won't it?"

"Hogwarts students, please head inside for the feast," Dumbledore called. Draco followed his classmates back inside towards the Great Hall. The Beauxbatons students had already chosen places at the Ravenclaw table, and the Durmstrang delegates hesitated only briefly before settling themselves at the Slytherin table. Draco really couldn't say he was surprised – from what Hermione had told them about Durmstrang, the school placed a much higher emphasis on blood status and did not admit Muggle-borns at all. Slytherin, then, really was the best place for such a group to sit.

"Welcome, one and all!" Dumbledore said as he addressed the assembled students. "Welcome, friends, to Hogwarts – we do hope your stay here is both enjoyable and comfortable. The Triwizard Tournament will officially open at the end of tonight's feast, but for now, please enjoy the meal!" At the conclusion of his speech, the platters on the table filled themselves with food as usual, a number of decidedly foreign dishes making an appearance amongst the normal Hogwarts fare. Draco, Blaise, and Tracey helped themselves and listened as the Durmstrang students began to open up to their new tablemates – Krum looked just as grumpy as he had at the World Cup and didn't seem interested in talking to anyone, but his classmates had no such qualms, and they commented positively on the quality of the golden dinnerware and the many delicious options available.

When at long last the tables were clear once more, Dumbledore presented the Goblet of Fire, a rough wooden cup filled with bright blue flames. After a brief explanation of the tournament itself and a reminder about the new age restriction, Dumbledore told the students that anyone interested in being considered for the tournament should drop a slip of parchment labeled with their name and school into the Goblet of Fire before the Halloween feast the following night. At the conclusion of said feast, the Goblet of Fire would reveal who it felt most worthy of representing each school as champion.

"This is so exciting!" Tracey whispered as they returned to the Slytherin common room for the evening. The guests, it seemed, were indeed sleeping in the carriage and on the ship, as they'd all headed back outside while the Hogwarts students made for the staircases.

"I wonder who the Hogwarts champion will be," Blaise said. "I overheard Warrington say he wanted to enter, but I don't think I can show house loyalty for that one."

"Ugh, no," Draco agreed, shaking his head vehemently. "Warrington's not much brighter than Flint – we can't have him representing Hogwarts."

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

It was a good thing classes were cancelled on Halloween, as nobody had even a hint of concentration or patience to spare for academics. Most of the students spent the vast majority of the day milling about the entrance hall watching the Goblet of Fire, which was perched on a small pedestal in the middle of the floor. Dumbledore's solution to ensuring that no underage students entered was an age line – thoughts that a mere age line was insufficient were quickly dispelled when Fred and George Weasley, who'd decided to take a few drops of Aging Potion apiece, were violently thrown away from the goblet before suddenly sprouting identical white beards. The twins had laughed the loudest of anyone, including Dumbledore himself, who witnessed the scene and sent them to join several others who'd had a similar idea in the hospital wing. Harry and his friends discussed potential Hogwarts champions in the courtyard after lunch – in addition to Warrington, they'd seen Cedric Diggory submit his name just before breakfast, and the Gryffindors were thrilled that Angelina Johnson had just turned seventeen as well.

That night, dinner seemed to drag on impossibly slowly as everyone in the room impatiently waited for the Goblet of Fire to make its reappearance. Finally, Dumbledore motioned for Filch to bring in the goblet, and a hush fell over the hall as the candles dimmed. Quite suddenly, the blue flames turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, and a singed piece of parchment shot out for Dumbledore to take. Holding it at arm's length in order to read by the goblet's light, he announced, "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

A tall, slim girl with a long sheet of silvery hair stood and made her way up the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables to polite applause. Dumbledore smiled and gave the young woman a bow before gesturing towards a door just behind the staff table, which she walked through to wait. A second piece of parchment made an appearance shortly thereafter.

"Representing Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!" The cheers for Krum were much louder than those for Fleur, probably due to his celebrity status, but he merely adopted his customary surly look and slouched his way towards the antechamber. For all his grace in the air, he was decidedly less so on the ground.

The wait for the Hogwarts champion seemed to take forever. Finally, the third parchment appeared.

"The Hogwarts champion…Mr. Cedric Diggory!"

The explosion of noise from the Hufflepuff table was deafening as every member of that house leapt to their feet, screaming and shouting with joy. Nobody could really blame them – Hufflepuff House hardly got any sort of recognition, so the fact that they'd produced the Hogwarts champion was a big deal to the Badgers. Cedric, for his part, gave his housemates a sheepish smile and a wave as he went to join the other champions.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said as Cedric vanished through the door. "Now that we have our champions, I expect-" But whatever Dumbledore was about to say was cut short as the goblet's flames flashed crimson once more. He habitually snatched the piece of parchment that the goblet expelled and stared at it for a long moment, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Harry Potter, would you please come up here?"

"You have _got_ to be joking," Harry muttered. Hermione and Ginny didn't respond – they were both unnaturally pale and were staring at Dumbledore in shock. Harry felt every eye in the hall on him as he slowly made his way towards the staff table. Dumbledore motioned him through the door and he gulped but nodded.

"I really need to start skipping Halloween," he said to himself as he pushed open the door. The other three champions were seated around the fire and looked up at his entrance.

"Do zey need us in ze 'all?" Fleur asked.

"Er…no, I don't think so," Harry stammered. _What on earth was he supposed to tell them?_ He was saved from responding further, however, when the door opened once more, admitting Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Mr. Crouch, and another man Harry didn't know.

"Dumbly-dorr, zis ees most irregular," Madame Maxime said.

"Irregular?" Karkaroff snapped. "Forget irregular, it's unfair! I don't recall agreeing that the host school could have _two_ champions!" The trio around the fire snapped to attention at that.

"Two champions?" Cedric asked.

"Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore explained. The other three champions gasped in shock.

"But… 'e ees too young!" Fleur protested. "Surely 'e cannot compete?"

"I'm afraid he must, my dear," the unknown man said. Harry started when he recognized the man's voice – it was Ludo Bagman, the announcer from the World Cup. "Anyone whose name comes out of that goblet is magically bound to compete."

"This is unacceptable!" Karkaroff roared. "I will not stand for this-"

"A word, if I may?" Mr. Crouch said smoothly. Karkaroff still looked murderous but nodded briskly for the man to continue.

"I won't deny that we find ourselves in a most unusual situation," Crouch began. "However, there is a…contingency plan of sorts on the goblet that may be activated in times like these, if all the champions are willing."

"Would you care to explain, Monsieur?" Madame Maxime asked. Unlike Karkaroff, who was still seething, she seemed more curious than angry.

"The Triwizard Tournament has only been cancelled once in its many centuries of existence," Crouch said. "During the opening ceremonies of the 1837 tournament, the goblet selected a champion who was the perfect candidate in every way…except for the fact that he was dead. A bit of questioning revealed that another student, one who held a long-standing grudge against the champion, submitted his classmate's name out of spite, unaware that the boy had died in a freak accident shortly before the school year began."

_"C'est terrible!" _Fleur exclaimed, her hands to her mouth.

"Indeed," Mr. Crouch agreed.

"How did anyone not notice that this boy hadn't turned up to school?" Cedric asked.

"The boy's father was a very important man with a lot of enemies, and as such the family was often called away on short notice for their own protection – it was not the first time he had been detained in returning to school, and so no one questioned his absence," Crouch explained. "In those days, the champions' selection happened much earlier in the year, and school had only been in session for a week or so at the time. The fact remained, however, that one school was without a champion, and as the Goblet of Fire had already gone out, the organizers had no choice but to cancel the tournament. In an effort to ensure that such a scenario never happened again, they created a contingency plan, which could be activated in the event that something similar occurred. A special spell upon the goblet allows students from the affected school to resubmit their names for consideration, and the goblet selects a new champion shortly thereafter."

"How does that work in light of this particular situation, Bartemius?" Dumbledore asked. "If, for instance, we resubmit the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, will that render Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum ineligible?"

"No," Crouch replied. "The contingency plan included the addition of the binding magical contract clause, meaning that any names that had already been chosen were bound to compete – unfortunately for Mr. Potter, that means he too is still bound to see the tournament through. However, unless Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum's names are put back into the goblet before the resubmission of names, which would tell the goblet that they are unacceptable candidates, the process will ultimately give us six champions."

"Six?" Bagman stuttered, speaking for the first time since Crouch had begun his story. "Barty, surely there's another way? We've already had a hell of a time getting the Chinese and Swedish Ministries to cooperate, now you're expecting me to add Peru, Hungary, and-"

"That's quite enough," Crouch interrupted suddenly.

"But…if you can render chosen candidates unacceptable, why can't you just do that with me?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Because, Harry, whoever submitted your name did so under a fourth school and must have somehow tricked the goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete," Dumbledore said gently. "It'd be quite impossible to choose a replacement candidate for you when you were the only candidate in your category to begin with. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there's no way to get you out of this – you must participate."

"What must we do next, Monsieur Crouch?" Madame Maxime asked. "Zis ees all most unusual…"

"Indeed it is, Madame," Crouch agreed. "First and foremost, we must have everyone in this room's consent to activate the contingency plan – if even one person doesn't agree, the spell won't work. Once we have that consent, we reactivate the goblet, submit the names, and we should have our other champions within fifteen minutes."

"I don't have a problem with it," Cedric said with a shrug. "It'll make it fairer for everyone to have two representatives."

"I agree," Fleur said immediately. "If 'Ogwarts 'as two champions, we should 'ave two as well."

"If that's the best we can do, go for it," Harry said.

"I do not have a problem vith the idea," Krum added.

Once the champions had all given their consent, it didn't take long for the Heads of School to agree as well – since the champions were the ones competing, it only seemed right that the decision be left to them. Crouch explained the incantation and wand movement to reactivate the Goblet of Fire, and the group returned to the Great Hall. The confused conversations of those in the hall died immediately as they reappeared, and Dumbledore quickly explained what had happened and what they were going to do. Mr. Crouch beckoned them all forward, and nine wands directed themselves towards the Goblet of Fire. A muttered incantation and a flash of bright light later, and the goblet danced with flames once more.

"If the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would kindly resubmit their names now," Dumbledore called. Rustling and scratching sounds filled the hall as the affected students reached for parchment and quills, and one by one, they dropped their new slips into the Goblet of Fire. Fifteen minutes later, the flames turned red.

"Representing Beauxbatons is Sébastien Gerard," Dumbledore announced. The young man in question had a haughty smirk on his face as he sauntered forward.

_"Fantastique,"_ Fleur muttered. Judging by her highly sarcastic tone, Harry guessed that she didn't like her co-champion very much.

"And for Durmstrang…Peter Johansson." The boy who stood from the Slytherin table was the polar opposite of Krum – while Krum was shorter, broad, and dark, Peter's tall, lean frame and blond hair made him look like Draco's older cousin.

Once Peter had joined the others in front of the teachers' table, Dumbledore gestured to the group in front of him and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the _six_ champions of this year's Triwizard Tournament."

* * *

**A/N: Just trying to keep things interesting... ;)**

**Thank you for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading! Hope you're enjoying the story so far - lots more to come, so stay tuned!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	9. Bagman's Clue

"Ooooh, I don't like this," Hermione said as she paced. "I don't like this at all."

"Lotte, calm down," Draco replied in as soothing a tone as he could manage. He attempted to catch Hermione's arm as she passed to stop her, but she was just out of reach and thus continued her mission of wearing holes in the rug.

"Maya, it's not worth it," Harry sighed. "I'm stuck in this tournament no matter what we do, so pacing like that won't get you anywhere. Besides…I happen to like that rug."

"Harry James Potter, I am going to _murder_ you," Hermione said exasperatedly, finally ceasing her pacing and collapsing on the sofa.

"As much as I'd like to steal that 'top-of-the-class' spot from you, I don't fancy doing so because you've landed yourself in Azkaban," Draco commented, eliciting a laugh from Blaise and Tracey.

"You two are hopeless," Hermione muttered, but she smiled anyway. "Seriously though – what's our plan?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking perplexed.

"Oh, come on, Harry," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "You really think we're not going to help you?"

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" Harry frowned.

"I took a look at the official rules of the tournament – they had a copy in the library," Hermione replied. "Outright cheating – for instance, seeking out headmasters, tournament organizers, et cetera with the express goal of gaining direct information on a task – is not allowed, nor is accepting help from any of the aforementioned people. Never once does it say that you can't accept help from anyone _not_ directly connected to the tournament – like friends. You're already at a disadvantage with your age – the rest of the competitors have at least three years' experience on you – and there's no way we're not going to help you even the playing field. Besides, if you think the other champions aren't going to cheat, think again – it's common knowledge that the heads of the three schools will do anything they can to give their champions a leg up, and Karkaroff and Madame Maxime will be extra eager to do so, given that this year's…unusual circumstances are, in their eyes, Hogwarts' fault. Now, what did they tell you about the first task?"

"Merlin, Granger," Blaise said, staring at Hermione with something akin to awe in his dark eyes. "Are you sure you were put in the right house? Because that was a Slytherin response if I ever heard one…" Hermione shrugged.

"You have to know what you're up against if you intend to beat someone at his own game," she replied. "I'd be willing to bet everything I own that whoever put Harry's name in that goblet didn't intend for him to win – whoever it was, they saw it as an opportunity to put Harry in danger. I mean, think about it – they originally stopped holding this tournament because so many of the champions had died. How easy would it be to get someone hurt or killed during a task and make it look like an accident? It took us three years to finally catch the person responsible for all the horrible stuff we went through from first year on – who's to say that someone else doesn't have a similar plan?"

"Can't fault you there," Draco said. "As morbid as the thought is, it definitely makes sense."

"Exactly. We need to do all we can to make sure Harry's prepared – so what do you know about the first task?"

"Not much," Harry admitted. "It's set for the twenty-first of November, but Bagman said it was a task to test our daring, so he wouldn't tell us anything except that we can only bring our wands."

"Hmm…well that's not much help, is it?" Tracey murmured. "Think, Harry – was there anything else he said, anything at all that might've given you a clue?"

"I don't think so…hang on…actually yeah, there was," Harry said suddenly. "I dunno if it was anything to do with the first task specifically, but Bagman said something odd when Mr. Crouch first said there'd be six champions. He mentioned the Chinese and Swedish Ministries and that they'd have to contact Peru and Hungary as well."

"China, Sweden, Peru, and Hungary?" Blaise repeated. "That's a bit of a random assortment, isn't it?"

"There must be something they have in common," Draco said. "If Bagman mentioned all four of them in the same sentence, I'd guess that they're all linked with the same task."

"He sounded like he was going to say more, but Mr. Crouch cut him off pretty quickly," Harry added.

"And since the first task is supposed to be a secret, I think it's a safe guess that those countries have something to do with it, if Mr. Crouch was so quick to stop Bagman from speaking," Hermione finished. "China…Sweden…Peru…Hungary…" She scribbled the names on a scrap of parchment. "I think this calls for a trip to the library."

* * *

Harry was grateful that his friends had so easily accepted that he hadn't personally submitted his name for the tournament, because the vast majority of the school hadn't. He heard whispers about the age line everywhere he went, and the Hufflepuffs in particular kept shooting him nasty looks in the corridors. Harry didn't think it would do any good to tell the Badgers that Cedric was the first to agree to the contingency plan, having stated the fairness of it as his reasoning – the bloke really was a Hufflepuff to the core – because it was obvious that they thought Harry had stolen their glory. Given that Hufflepuff rarely had any glory to steal, Harry could understand their reactions, but it still hurt when people who were normally nice to just about anyone gave him the cold shoulder or purposely changed seats so as not to have to work with him in class. The Gryffindors, for the most part, were in a state of awestruck shock, and though they occasionally expressed jealousy of Harry's participation, they largely accepted the situation and left him alone.

The Slytherins, however, were beside themselves with glee over the whole thing. Harry's little adventures had cost them the House and Quidditch Cups on more than one occasion, and they were thrilled over what they viewed as retribution. On Friday morning, the Gryffindors entered the corridor by the Potions classroom to find their Slytherin classmates reclining against the wall, most of them wearing large circular badges pinned to their robes. As Harry got closer, he could read the glowing message on the badges: _Support Cedric Diggory – the REAL Hogwarts Champion!_

"What do you think, Potter?" Nott asked, a satisfied smirk on his face. He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message changed: _Potter Stinks._

"Last I checked, all six of them are 'real' champions," Neville said, glaring at Nott.

"Please," Nott scoffed. "We all know there wouldn't even _be_ six champions if it weren't for Potter and his pathetic addiction to fame. I might not have solid proof, but there's no way he hasn't broken at least half the school rules by now – what's breaking a few more to ensure that the glory keeps coming?"

"Save it for someone who cares, Nott," Hermione huffed. "The childish badges are only proving our point – if anyone here's pathetic, it's you."

"How _dare_ you!" Nott growled, ripping his wand from within his robes. "Filthy Mudblood!"

"NO!" Harry roared as he withdrew his own wand.

_"Densaugeo!"_

_"Furnunculus!"_

The two spells collided in midair and ricocheted sideways, eventually hitting Goyle and Hermione full in the face. Goyle howled in pain as boils began to erupt all over his skin, and Hermione shrieked and covered her face with her hands.

"Maya!" Harry shouted as he ran to her. "What happened?" Hermione whimpered and pressed her hands further over her face, but Harry forced them away when he saw the blood leaking through her fingers.

"Oh, _Merlin…"_

Hermione's mouth was a mess. Her front teeth, oversized to begin with, were growing at an alarming rate, and the sudden change had absolutely shattered her braces. Her teeth had already reached the top of her chin and were still growing, and her gums were bleeding profusely from where bits of broken metal had cut them. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode burst into hysterical laughter at the sight of her, provoking the rest of the Gryffindors into drawing their wands.

_"What_ is going on here?" Snape had arrived on the scene and was staring at the fourth-years, who by now all had their wands trained on each other, with a furious expression on his face.

"Potter hexed Goyle, Professor – look!" Pansy shrieked. By this point, Goyle's face and hands were almost completely covered in nasty-looking boils, and his large hands were swollen to twice their normal size.

"But look at Hermione!" Ron retaliated. Hermione was all-out sobbing, a scraped chin added to her injuries as her teeth steadily elongated towards her collar.

"Goyle – Granger – hospital wing," Snape barked. They didn't need telling twice – Hermione bolted up the stairs as fast as possible, her face in her hands as she continued to cry, and Goyle lumbered after her as best he could.

"Potter – were you responsible for the Furnunculus jinx?" Snape glared. Harry was a bit taken aback by the question, considering Snape had never bothered to ask before.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Nott called Hermione a…you-know-what." Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Be that as it may, fighting in the corridors is unacceptable – detention tonight, and twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said. He then rounded on the Slytherins. "Which of you hexed Miss Granger?"

"Professor, it was-"

"Quiet, Miss Davis," Snape demanded.

"But-"

"_Silence,_ Zabini. I didn't ask for childish tattling, I asked for the person who hexed Miss Granger to step forward. Well?"

Nott didn't move. Harry was livid, but as he'd already earned himself one detention, he decided to keep his mouth shut – he had no idea why Snape was suddenly being fair, but he wouldn't put it past the Potions Master to give him detention for the rest of term if he went too far.

"Well?" Snape repeated. When Nott remained where he was, Snape said, "So be it. Twenty points from Slytherin, and all of you will join Mr. Potter in detention tonight." When several of the Slytherins protested, Snape snapped, "Enough! The culprit refuses to own up to it, and so you shall all bear the punishment. You're an embarrassment to Hogwarts, all of you. Now get inside." He wrenched open the dungeon door, and the stunned students took their seats in silence. The entire lesson was unusually quiet – the Slytherins were irate that their housemate had gotten them all in trouble, looking out for oneself above all else be damned, and the Gryffindors couldn't believe that Snape had willingly assigned an entire seventh of his house detention in one fell swoop. Snape hardly spoke either, except to dock his house a further ten points for Nott's unacceptable language and to explain the day's concoction – for the rest of the class, he prowled through the classroom like an angry predator and glared at his students as they attempted to mix an acceptable Color-Changing Solution.

"Damn," Harry muttered as they finally headed upstairs for lunch, "Snape was on a roll today."

"No kidding," Blaise practically growled. "Bloody Nott, landing us all in detention on a Friday night – I'm gonna kill him."

"Bad idea, Blaise," Draco advised. "Let's just make it through tonight and worry about him later – if he wants to be a first class bastard, that's his problem."

"I'm just shocked that Slytherin actually lost more points than Gryffindor," Harry said.

"Makes sense, actually," Draco replied. "The extra ten were for Nott's insult – you know how Snape feels about that word." Harry most certainly did – there was a time when that particular slur had cost Snape his friendship with Harry's mum. The adults had spoken briefly a few times since Harry had started at Hogwarts, but their relationship was far from where it used to be. "Look at it this way – whatever Snape makes us do, it's bound to be something Potions-related – the four of us can just work near each other, and you can ignore the rest of your housemates."

"I just hope Hermione's ok," Tracey said worriedly as they reached the Great Hall. "That was a horrible hex…"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Blaise reassured her. "If Madam Pomfrey can mend broken bones as quickly as she does, I'm sure fixing a couple teeth won't be a problem. Now let's see what's for lunch – I'm starved."

* * *

Harry's prediction about their detention turned out to be spot-on – Snape ushered them all into the dungeons immediately after dinner that night and confiscated their wands before presenting them with a variety of slimy creatures he wanted dissected.

"Ugh!" Pansy shrieked. "I'm not touching those!"

"You will, Miss Parkinson, or you'll find yourself in detention from now until Christmas!" Snape spat. "Now get to work, all of you. One detention will seem tame compared to what you'll face if you're not done when I return." He slammed and locked the classroom door as he left, making them all jump.

"Nott, you are going to _pay_ for this!" Pansy wailed. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to get my nails this shade?"

"Cut it with the dramatics, Pansy," Daphne Greengrass sighed. "Let's just get this over with." Harry was a bit surprised – Daphne was another one of his classmates who rarely spoke, and never so openly one way or the other. Everyone knew that her parents were neutral when it came to Voldemort, but Daphne's personal views were a bit of a mystery. In spite of the oddity, Harry and Draco took Daphne's lead and selected their first creatures from the massive supply.

After what felt like days, Snape finally returned. He carefully scrutinized their work before deeming it 'acceptable' and dismissing them for the night. Pansy huffed and immediately flounced out of the room, but most of the others took their time, too exhausted to hurry.

"Well, that was fun," Draco commented as he picked frog guts from under his nails. "Anybody know a good cleaning charm?"

"Can't say I do," Tracey replied ruefully. Her own hands were coated in a thick, slimy substance that nobody could identify for sure. "I'll bet Hermione does, though."

"Considering how much she reads, definitely," Harry added. "Too bad she was still in the hospital wing as of dinnertime – and even if she's back in Gryffindor Tower by now, it's nearly midnight. She's probably asleep."

"If she's not, tell her we missed her today," Draco said as they reached a junction in the corridor.

"I will," Harry promised. With one last goodnight, the group split, the Slytherin trio returning to their dungeon quarters while Harry began the long, lonely trek up to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Hermione was waiting for Harry in the common room when he came down for breakfast the next morning.

"Ron told me about what happened after I left," she said as she pushed open the portrait. "Snape really put all of the Slytherins in detention?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Nott wouldn't admit that he was the one who hexed you, so Snape finally got fed up and punished them all. It was really weird, to be honest."

"I'll say," Hermione said, her eyes wide. "You must've gotten back really late last night – I didn't go to bed until half eleven. What did Snape make you do?"

"Restock potions ingredients – lots of disemboweling. But never mind that – how are you? We were so worried…"

"Harry, I'm fine," Hermione said, stopping to give him a small smile. "I do appreciate the concern, but it was just a little jinx."

"Whoa," Harry breathed, having noticed Hermione's teeth. "Maya – smile again." Hermione obliged, and Harry was shocked at the difference. Not only were Hermione's braces totally gone, but her teeth were straight, even, and…normal.

"I might've let Madam Pomfrey carry on a touch too long with her shrinking charm," Hermione said, smiling sheepishly. "Mum and Dad probably won't be thrilled, but the braces were ruined anyway, so I figured I might as well."

"They look good, Maya," Harry said truthfully. "Wonder how Nott will feel when he realizes he actually did you a favor, eh?" Hermione chuckled, and the two friends linked arms and strolled the rest of the way to the Great Hall.

Later that day, Harry was working on an Astronomy essay in the Room of Requirement when Hermione burst through the door, a large book under her arm and a worried look on her face.

"Harry," she said breathlessly, "I've found it."

"Found what?"

"The connection between China, Sweden, Hungary, and Peru." Hermione bit her lip – the effect wasn't nearly as pronounced now that she'd shrunk her teeth, but it was still rather endearing – and she slid Harry's essay sideways to make way for her book. Harry recognized it as _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ a textbook they'd had since first year.

"I was looking for more information on Blast-Ended Skrewts for Hagrid's class," Hermione said as she flipped pages. "Obviously, there's nothing in here – I'm starting to think he illegally bred those himself – but I did find this." She finally flipped to the page she was looking for, and Harry drew in a sharp breath as he took in the names before him. Chinese Fireball…Swedish Short-Snout…Peruvian Vipertooth…Hungarian Horntail…

"Dragons," Hermione said quietly. "The first task involves dragons."

Harry agitatedly ran a hand through his messy hair as he pulled the book closer. Dragons…the first task was just over two weeks away. How the _hell_ was he supposed to face a dragon with only his wand?

* * *

**A/N: And there we have it - they've figured out the first task! We'll see ****what happens next!**

**Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading!  
**

****JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)****


	10. A Distraction

The next afternoon, a small Ravenclaw girl Harry didn't know called him out of Transfiguration class. The girl mentioned something about a wand ceremony to Professor McGonagall, and the professor gave a comprehending nod before dismissing Harry, instructing him to take his things with him as he was unlikely to return before the end of the period. Curious, Harry followed the Ravenclaw to an empty classroom on the ground floor.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Quirke – you may head back to class now. Harry, do come in."

In addition to Professor Dumbledore, who had been the one to invite Harry in, the room's occupants included Cedric, Madame Maxime and the two Beauxbatons champions, Mr. Bagman, Mr. Ollivander, and two people Harry had never seen before. The woman was blonde, her curls so rigidly tight that Harry questioned if they were actually real, and her lengthy nails were painted a violent shade of pink. She had cheap-looking rhinestone glasses perched on the end of her pointy nose, and her face immediately morphed into an overly intrigued stare when she saw Harry. The man beside her was short, round, and grumpy looking, and he held an old-fashioned camera, the kind that used a flashbulb.

"If you'll have a seat, Harry, we're just waiting for the Durmstrang folks," Dumbledore informed him. Deciding not to ask further questions for the moment, Harry took a seat next to Cedric and absentmindedly fiddled with his wand while wondering what Mr. Ollivander was doing at Hogwarts. They'd only been waiting a minute or two when the door opened again, admitting Karkaroff and his champions.

"Excellent," Bagman said once they'd all taken a seat. "Welcome, then, to the Weighing of the Wands ceremony. The purpose of this ceremony is quite simple, really – as your wands are going to be instrumental in the tasks ahead, it is crucial that we make sure that they are in good working order. Mr. Garrick Ollivander of Ollivander's in Diagon Alley will oversee today's proceedings. Mr. Ollivander?"

"Thank you, Ludo," the wand maker replied. "Ladies first, then – Miss Delacour, your wand, please."

Mr. Ollivander took his time and examined each wand carefully, occasionally asking questions to better understand those that weren't his own creation – Fleur and Sébastien's wands had come from two different craftsmen in France, while the Durmstrang champions had both purchased theirs from a man called Gregorovich. Ollivander was especially intrigued with Fleur's wand, which contained a veela hair for its core – she said it had come from her own grandmother. Harry was last, and Ollivander muttered something that sounded like, "Such a horrible coincidence" before making a fountain of wine pour from the end of his wand.

"I see no problems here," he finally said. "These wands will serve them just fine."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," replied Bagman. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, the _Prophet_ wants to do a little piece on the tournament – officially open it, as it were, keep the public informed. Miss Skeeter?"

Harry had to fight to keep his expression impassive. The blonde woman was _Rita Skeeter?_ The same one who'd written that horribly skewed article about the Quidditch World Cup? He swallowed hard and steeled himself – she was bound to ask questions, and he'd have to be very careful how he responded.

"Oh, I don't think _little_ is the right word for it, Ludo," Rita replied, peering at Harry once more. She seemed much too interested. "No, not little at all – after all, this is _such_ an unusual circumstance…"

"Miss Skeeter, just a kind reminder that these students do need to be returning to class," Dumbledore said. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a hint of a hard edge in his headmaster's tone – it seemed Dumbledore didn't like Rita Skeeter very much either. In any case, _he_ certainly wasn't going to point out that the lessons they'd been pulled from were the last of the day.

"Of course," Rita simpered, a wicked smile playing about her lips. "Just a few quick questions, that's all."

'A few quick questions' translated into Rita dragging each of the champions off for a private interview…in the nearest broom closet. As with the wand ceremony, Harry went last, and he couldn't help but notice that Rita interrogated him for nearly twice as long as any of the other champions, in spite of the concise answers he gave. When they finally returned, Rita insisted on photographs – "A front-page story can hardly go without a picture!" – and so they posed for another nearly twenty minutes as Rita's photographer snapped picture after picture, engulfing them all in a thick cloud of smoke every time his camera went off. Finally, Rita seemed satisfied with her material, and she and her photographer departed. Bagman, too, made his excuses and left, saying that he had to report back to Mr. Crouch – the latter had been unable to attend due to a department meeting related to the first task.

"Lessons will be over soon," Dumbledore said. "We must take our leave – it is traditional for the Heads of School to meet with the resident wand maker after the ceremony – but you may stay or go as you wish." He gave them a reassuring nod before exiting the room, and it wasn't long before the six champions were left alone.

"Well…this is interesting," Cedric commented. There was a lengthy silence.

"What do you mean?" Fleur finally asked.

"Well…er, we haven't all been alone before, is all," Cedric replied.

"Perhaps we might learn a little about each other?" Peter suggested. Sébastien immediately snorted.

"And why would we want to do zat?" he asked haughtily. "Zis is a competition, in case you 'ave forgotten."

"Bastien, eet was an 'onest question," Fleur retorted. "I do not 'ave a problem with eet." Bastien rolled his eyes and said something in French; Fleur immediately replied in kind, and though Harry didn't understand the words, he understood the tone – Bastien was clearly being sarcastic, while Fleur sounded angry.

"I came 'ere to win, not to make friends," Bastien said snootily. After one more rapid-fire exchange of heated French, Bastien rose and left the room. Fleur turned to the other champions, a cool mask of indifference settling over her beautiful features.

"I apologize for Bastien's rudeness," she said. "Eet ees a disgrace upon ze good name of Beauxbatons."

"It is not a problem, Mademoiselle," Peter assured her. "While what he said was not very polite, it is nice to hear that you do not express the same sentiment."

_"Parlez-vous français?"_ Fleur asked, her expression becoming curious.

_"Oui,"_ Peter replied. "I speak many languages – I am from Switzerland." Upon further inquiry from Cedric, Peter told them that he also spoke fluent English and German, as well as a bit of Swedish – his father was of Swedish descent, which explained his fair coloring. He'd been born in Sweden but had moved to his mother's homeland of Switzerland at a young age, and though his English sounded very formal, he spoke with only the slightest trace of an accent.

"And what about you, Miss Delacour?" Cedric asked. As she began to answer Cedric, Krum turned to Harry.

"I haff heard a lot about you, Mr. Potter," he said. Harry cocked his head in interest.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Vell, of course everyvun knows about vhat happened vith the Dark Lord," Krum began. Harry frowned slightly.

"I am sorry," Krum said as he noticed the look. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Er…it's just that only his followers call him that around here," Harry said quickly.

"Oh – I did not know, I am sorry," Krum said again. "Vhat do you call him then?"

"Most people call him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Harry supplied helpfully.

"Thank you – I vill try to remember that," Krum said. "Anyvay, ve have all heard about how you escaped him vhen you vere young – your name is vell known in my country. And I haff heard rumors that you fly very vell also – you started playing at a very young age?" Harry's jaw nearly dropped.

"I…well, yeah, I guess you could say that," he stammered. "I was chosen to play Seeker for Gryffindor during my first year. But really though, I guess I'm good by Hogwarts' standards, but it's nothing compared to what I saw you do at the World Cup."

"Perhaps I could see you fly sometime," Krum suggested. "I think you are too modest, Mr. Potter – I haff heard great things about your skills. I vould like to see them."

"I…wow. I guess we'll have to go out to the pitch sometime then," Harry said. "It's pretty much always open since there aren't any practices this year."

"I vould like that very much," Krum replied, and a semblance of a grin spread across his face. It was the first time Harry had seen him looking anything other than put out, and the change made the Bulgarian look infinitely more approachable.

"It's dinner soon," Cedric said then, looking up from his wristwatch. "We should probably get going if we want to drop off our stuff before then." Murmurs of agreement met this statement, and the champions picked up their bags and prepared to leave. They exchanged muttered goodbyes as Harry and Cedric made for the staircase while Peter, Fleur, and Viktor headed back outside.

* * *

"Well, that's interesting," Hermione commented as they lazed in the Room of Requirement later that night. Harry had just finished recounting his afternoon, including the entire Weighing of the Wands ceremony as well as the conversation with the champions that followed it.

"I wonder what Bastien's problem is?" Draco mused. "He certainly doesn't seem very friendly, from what you've said."

"Fleur comes across as pretty inapproachable herself, mind," Harry said. "Although I think that's more a French thing than anything else – at least she was willing to stay and chat. Bastien just gave us the 'I-have-better-things-to-do' spiel and waltzed off."

"He sounds like he'd get along swimmingly with Parkinson," Draco said with a laugh. The others laughed at that as well, although Harry implored his brother never to actually introduce the two.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on it," Draco assured him. "Parkinson's irritating enough without someone equally as arrogant to stroke her ego."

"Of course, they could just knock each other down a peg or two instead," Hermione pointed out.

"Probably not," Harry said. "With my luck, they'd take to each other like ducks to water – better not risk it. Now, what's the Transfiguration homework?"

* * *

The next morning, however, Harry found he had much bigger problems than Bastien's attitude. Rita Skeeter's article had been published, and it wasn't so much about the tournament as it was a falsification of his life story. The other champions had barely been mentioned at all – the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had been squeezed into a last sentence as an afterthought, and Cedric was left out entirely. Harry looked up to see Bastien sneering at him from his place at the Ravenclaw table and forced himself to read the entire piece. Skeeter droned on and on about his 'legendary escape from evil's clutches' and included a number of quotes he definitely didn't remember providing. In fact, he distinctly remembered her only asking questions related to the tournament…

"D'you think Mum's not telling us something?" Draco joked as he scanned the article. "According to this, she's been dead for thirteen years…" The lengthy section about Halloween 1981 did indeed falsely state that both Lily and James had died that night – and that Harry had wept profusely when they'd been brought up in his interview.

"It's utter rubbish, that's what," Hermione said, sounding angry. "Doesn't anyone even bother to fact-check her work before it goes to print?"

"Herms, Skeeter's been printing crap for years," Ginny pointed out.

"Which is why it's high time somebody stopped her," Hermione retorted.

"I agree, just…be careful, yeah? Skeeter can be downright nasty to those on her _good_ side – I'd hate to see what she'd do to someone opposing her."

* * *

A little over a week later, they were once again in the Room of Requirement, this time searching through books in hopes of discovering something that might help Harry against the dragon.

"I really hope Bagman was kidding when he mentioned Peru," Hermione commented. She was lounging on the sofa, her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ propped open against her bent legs. "The Vipertooth is quite poisonous and has a rather alarming liking for humans – although so do Horntails, and there are only so many species of dragons..."

"Sounds perfect," Harry replied sarcastically. "Bet I get one of those."

"This is ridiculous," Draco muttered as he slammed another book shut. "This is all about giving things firepower – given that you're facing a dragon, I'd say that's the _last_ thing you need."

"And I don't think knowing how to give it color-changing spots will help much either," Harry said, closing his book as well and adding it to the reject pile. _"_Oh, and I'm pretty sure most of the other champions at least know we're facing some sort of animal – I saw both Bastien and Peter in the magical creature section of the library last weekend. _Accio_ book." A new book flew over from the stack on the shelf, and he began to page through it absentmindedly. Hermione, however, stopped reading and stared at Harry, a look of comprehension on her face.

"Harry, I think you might be on to something," she said.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Your Summoning Charm has gotten really good," Hermione answered. "The only thing they told you about this task is that you can use your wand, right?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, confusion lacing his tone. He wasn't sure where Hermione was going with this.

"Well…instead of trying to find some complicated spell that you only _might_ be able to master before next week, what if you used a charm you already know well – like a Summoning Charm – to obtain something that would help you beat the dragon?"

"Maya, while that's a fantastic idea, what on earth would I Summon?" Harry asked. "It's not like I could Summon the dragon keepers and ask them to distract the dragon for me." He stopped just then, the expression on his face clearly saying he'd thought of something. "Distract it – yes! I just have to distract it!"

And thanks to one of his fellow champions, he knew _exactly_ how he was going to do that.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, Rita Skeeter has arrived...who's ready for the first task?**

**Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading! Hope you're liking it so far.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	11. Norberta vs the Nimbus

Harry spent every spare minute in the remaining days leading up to the first task practicing his Summoning Charm. Draco and Hermione, who were the only ones who knew the entirety of Harry's plan, took turns helping him practice, and the Room of Requirement very helpfully provided a veritable mountain of objects for him to Summon. When even the room couldn't provide enough space anymore, they moved to a flat expanse of the grounds near the Quidditch pitch. Harry was still nervous about the sheer distance his charm had to cover – no matter where they ultimately left his broom, it would be very far away indeed – but he felt a little better when he managed to snatch Hermione's Transfiguration textbook straight out of her unsuspecting hands from a good two hundred meters away. In the end, they decided the broom would stay in the dormitories – it was by far the safest place to keep it and ensured that no one would move or walk off with it – and Hermione would be in charge of going up to the fourth-years' room after all the boys had left to open the window.

Everyone had a hard time keeping focused as the first task drew nearer. Everywhere Harry went, he heard whispers, rumors about what the task entailed (some of these were so outrageously off the mark that he had to keep from laughing), what impressive magic the champions would use, and – to his chagrin – bets on how long the champions, particularly himself, would last. He didn't see the other champions much besides at mealtimes, but when he did, they looked tense. Seeing Peter in the magical creatures section of the library and Madame Maxime conversing with her champions in low tones made it fairly obvious that they, at least, knew what was coming, and if Peter knew, it stood to reason that Krum did as well. It was only when Harry passed Cedric in the corridor after History of Magic one afternoon that he realized the Hufflepuff boy looked relatively at ease, far too much so for someone about to face a dragon. Was it possible that Cedric didn't know?

"Hey – hey, Cedric!" Cedric turned and looked at Harry, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Can I talk to you for a sec? It's important," Harry said. A couple of Cedric's friends narrowed their eyes at him – evidently, the Hufflepuffs' anger at him had yet to subside – but Cedric merely shrugged and gestured for his classmates to go on without him.

"In here," Harry suggested as he pulled open the door to the nearest classroom and found it empty. "This isn't something anyone else should hear…"

"Er…I'm supposed to be in Charms in two minutes," Cedric said uncertainly.

"It's dragons," Harry blurted out. When Cedric merely cocked his head in question, he continued, "The first task – it's dragons." Cedric's confused expression morphed into one of shock, his mouth forming a comically perfect 'o'.

"I…how did you find out?" he asked. "And what do we have to do?"

"I don't know exactly what we have to do," Harry replied, "but I figured it out from what Bagman let slip at our very first meeting…" He quickly explained the clue Bagman had inadvertently dropped and how he'd uncovered the link.

"I…ok then," Cedric finally said once he'd taken a minute to process the revelation. "But…why are you telling me this? We're not supposed to know, after all…"

"Because I'm pretty sure the other champions know too," Harry said. "I dunno if they figured out the clue or found out some other way, but I've seen them poring over creature books in the library, and they're all too tense _not_ to know." He paused and focused on a spot on the wall behind Cedric, suddenly feeling a tad embarrassed. "I just figured…well, after what you said during the opening ceremonies about fairness, it wouldn't be fair of me to let you be the only one going in there blind, if that makes any sense."

"It does," Cedric agreed, nodding slightly. "Er…thanks, Harry. And I'm sorry about the way my housemates have been acting – I promise I didn't put them up to it."

"Don't worry about it," Harry shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Yeah…well, thanks again. Guess I'll see you at the first task then." Cedric hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, nodded, and left the room.

* * *

The morning of the first task was bright, but cold. After breakfast, Harry found Hermione waiting for him at the base of the dormitory staircase, clad in a thick Weasley jumper under her wool cloak, her Gryffindor scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

"Everyone else has already left," he assured her. "I…I guess I'll see you soon." He tried to hide the heavy swallow of nerves, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried. "Please, please, _please_ be careful!" She threw her arms around him in a fierce hug, then pulled back to meet his gaze.

"I know you've been practicing so hard, and I'm sure you'll be brilliant…" she trailed off and chuckled sheepishly. "Merlin, I think I'm almost as nervous as you are!"

"And that's saying something," Harry muttered, though he managed a smile in response. "I'll see you soon, Maya – I've got to get going, and you'll want to as well, if you're planning to watch!"

"Ginny said she'd save me a seat, but you're right." Hermione hugged him once more and darted up the staircase out of sight, leaving Harry to make his way downstairs alone. He followed the directions he'd received that morning to the open lawn by the Quidditch pitch, next to which a large tent had been erected. Bagman was waiting for him at the tent entrance and ushered him inside.

"Good, good!" Bagman said jovially as he showed Harry to a chair. "Everyone's here, splendid! I'll be explaining the task in a few minutes – in the meantime, make yourselves comfortable." He left the champions alone, and an awkward silence settled over the tent. It was hard to be comfortable on the spindly little chairs they'd been given, and nobody quite knew what to say to ease the tension. When Bagman finally returned, this time with Mr. Crouch, the champions all visibly relaxed.

"Right, then!" Bagman began. "As we told you at the beginning, the first task has been designed to test your daring. You all have your wands?" The champions nodded wordlessly. "Good. Now, in a minute, you'll each be selecting something from this bag. That something is a…model, shall we say, of the thing you'll be facing shortly. Your task is to collect the golden egg. So…ladies first?" Bagman held up the velvet purple bag to Fleur, who reached cautiously within and withdrew a miniature dragon, a perfect model of the real thing. The tiny creature snorted and lifted its head to gaze curiously up at them all. There was a small tag with a number two around the dragon's neck.

"The Common Welsh Green – excellent," Bagman said. "Mr. Diggory, why don't you go next?" Bagman continued to pass the bag around until all the champions had selected their dragons. Cedric's was the silvery-blue Swedish Short-Snout, with the number six. Krum selected the vibrant red Chinese Fireball and the number one. Bastien paled as he saw his Hungarian Horntail's model bare its sharp fangs, the little dragon snapping at its number three tag. Peter pulled the copper-colored Vipertooth and number five, and Harry watched with interest as his Norwegian Ridgeback paced back and forth across his palm. He had number four.

"Excellent, excellent!" Bagman said again. "I'm sure you've figured out by now that this task involves dragons, and the models you've just chosen indicate which breed you'll face – as you can see, all six dragons are different. The numbers show which position in the circle has which dragon – one is on the far left, six on the far right. I'll be commentating, and Mr. Crouch will send you all out in just a few minutes. If you could arrange yourselves in reverse numerical order, that's how we'd like you to walk out."

Harry pondered what Bagman had said as the latter man left the tent. This was an interesting twist – if they were all attempting the task at the same time, he'd have to keep an eye on the dragons to either side of him as well as his own. Considering that his position put the Horntail on his left and the Vipertooth on his right, he'd have to be extra alert, as both of those breeds were exceptionally dangerous. The task's format also explained the lineup's lack of a Hebridean Black, Britain's other native dragon – that particular breed was extremely territorial even with its own kind, and Harry didn't want to think about what one might do if confronted with other varieties.

"It is time," Mr. Crouch said as he glanced at an ornate golden pocket watch. "Please arrange yourselves in order and follow me." Harry took his place in line behind Peter, and the champions dutifully followed Mr. Crouch, not through the front entrance, but a back exit they hadn't yet noticed.

The sight before them made several of the champions gasp in astonishment. Behind the tent was an enormous arena. Viewing stands like those on the Quidditch pitch circled a massive oval of open space. As Bagman had said, the dragons were arranged in order, a little numbered sign resting in the space before each, and a team of dragon keepers held the beasts at bay, though the champions knew the shackles would come off as soon as the task started. Mr. Crouch led the champions around the circle before taking his place at the judges' table, where Bagman and the three school heads were already sitting, and the champions stopped in front of their assigned dragons.

Harry was trying very hard to mask his fear, particularly his shaking knees, and he had a feeling the other champions were battling similar nerves. The dragons seemed much larger up close, even the Vipertooth, which was the smallest by far at fifteen feet. The Ridgeback Harry now faced seemed to fall somewhere in the middle, size-wise, and its jet-black scales glistened as it bent to stare at the new arrivals with its large orange eyes. Sharp ridges of the same inky hue marched in a neat row down the creature's back, and a burst of hot flame flew from its snout when it suddenly sneezed. When Harry looked closer, he saw that the dragon was protecting a nest, in which four eggs sat – as Ridgeback eggs were the same black as their scales, the target golden egg stood out and would be easy to spot even from a distance.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!" Just as it had done at the World Cup, Bagman's magically amplified voice echoed easily throughout the arena. "Good morning, and welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament! The object is simple: each champion must collect the golden egg. The task will begin on my whistle – three…two…one!"

A shrill blast cut through the air, and cries of _"Relashio!"_ filled the arena as the dragon keepers released the dragons' bonds. The crowd gasped and cheered as the champions immediately began casting spells, and one of the dragons let out an earsplitting roar. Harry did his best to block out the extraneous noise and raised his wand skyward. Taking care to keep his eyes on his dragon, he shouted, _"Accio _Harry Potter's Nimbus!" Speaking of himself in the third person sounded rather stupid, but his inability to point his wand directly at his broom made it necessary – Draco also had a Nimbus, and it wouldn't be far-fetched for others to own them as well. If he left out the specification, Harry could very well find himself with any number of unwanted broomsticks coming his way.

Harry didn't dare count the seconds that ticked by after he performed the charm. How long had Hermione estimated the broom's journey would take? He wished he could ask her, but it was too late now…finally, however, a _whoosh_ sounded overhead, and he turned just in time to see his Nimbus glide to a halt at perfect mounting height. Without further ado, Harry swung one leg over his broom and kicked off.

The instant he was airborne, Harry's worries about the task faded away. Sure, he still had to face a fire-breathing dragon twenty times bigger than himself, but now, the objective seemed no different than capturing a Snitch. He vaguely heard the other dragons' roars, one of which sounded almost pained, as well as what sounded like barking – was there a dog around somewhere? – and faint music. Harry quickly shook his head – he could hear about what the other champions did later, even watch one of his friends' memories of the task in a Pensieve if he really wanted to, but right now, he had to focus on his own dragon. The Ridgeback's eyes narrowed and followed Harry as he flew in tight circles over its head – perhaps he could make it dizzy? Or maybe not – for starters, that could take ages, and he might cause the dragon to fall over onto the nest. Probably not the best idea.

Tactic number two – get the dragon away from the nest. The easiest way to do that seemed to be to coax it upwards, and so Harry flew lower until he was just out of reach of the Ridgeback's sharp teeth. Taking care to stay out of fire range, Harry began circling again.

"Come on," he said, though he wasn't sure the dragon could hear him. "Come on…up you get…you know you want to…" He continued talking to the dragon while circling just out of reach, occasionally flying a little lower again to regain the dragon's attention. The Ridgeback snorted, clearly irritated with the tactic, and Harry just barely avoided the burst of fire from its nostrils. He was just starting to get dizzy from all the circling when he finally got his reward and the Ridgeback reared, front claws in the air and leathery wings unfurled. Harry wasted no time and dove straight downwards as fast as he could, and when he got to the nest, he scooped up the golden egg and secured it under his arm before rocketing away again.

He wasn't far from the nest when he suddenly went tumbling across the arena's grassy surface, a sharp pain blossoming in his left arm. A glance at the limb revealed a torn sleeve and a long gash running the length of his forearm – it wasn't deep, but it was bleeding and hurt a lot. Harry was confused – had the Ridgeback not fallen for his trick? – but his dragon had just barely touched its front claws back to the ground. However, the Horntail was roaring for all it was worth, its tail flailing madly, and Harry suspected the spikes on that tail had caused the damage to his arm. He had, of course, removed his focus from everything except the golden egg when he'd dived, leaving himself very vulnerable indeed, and though the Ridgeback had been out of the way, it seemed that the Horntail had lashed out at precisely the right moment. Harry didn't know what had angered the Horntail so quickly, but he was somewhat pleased that Bastien still had yet to retrieve his egg. In fact, a quick look around the arena proved that he was the first one finished!

"Mr. Potter! Come with me, please!"

Harry looked back towards the arena's entrance and saw Professor McGonagall standing there, waving furiously at him. He pocketed his wand and grabbed his broomstick and the egg before hurrying over to her.

"You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey about that arm," she said. "You'll find her in the champions' tent – hurry along now. You'll get your scores when everyone's finished." His Head of House ushered Harry quickly towards the tent, and when they reached the entrance, she offered him a rare smile.

"Excellent Summoning Charm, Mr. Potter – I daresay Professor Flitwick will be very proud." Harry felt himself blush at the praise.

"Thank you, Professor," he said.

"How did it feel when you chose Norberta?" she asked, and she actually looked amused.

"Er…Norberta, Professor?"

"Charlie Weasley is one of the dragon keepers here today – most of them are from the reserve in Romania where he works," Professor McGonagall explained. "Charlie knows how much Hagrid loves magical creatures, so he took Hagrid to see the dragons this morning. Hagrid insisted on naming them all – he initially christened the Ridgeback 'Norbert' but added the extra 'a' when Charlie told him the dragons were all nesting females. I don't think you want to hear what he decided to call some of the others." Harry chuckled.

"That sounds like Hagrid, all right," he said. "And I definitely could've chosen better, but I also could've chosen worse, so I can't really complain."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. In any case, a job well done. Now, go get yourself cleaned up," Professor McGonagall insisted. Harry nodded and vanished inside the tent, where Madam Pomfrey immediately began fussing over him as she muttered about the dangers of dragons and underage champions. One by one, the other champions slowly returned to the tent. Peter was the only one who had escaped unscathed – the rest all nursed burns and scratches of varying severity, and Madam Pomfrey flitted about the tent as she tended to their injuries. Finally, Professor McGonagall came to collect the champions.

"The judges are waiting for you," she said. "Please follow me."

Though the crowd was still cheering, the absence of the dragons felt like a Silencing Charm to the champions. The six students stood in front of the numbered signs where their dragons had been, and Bagman magnified his voice once more.

"Excellent work, all of you!" he boomed. "Simply marvelous! And now we must reward you for your hard work, mustn't we? You can earn up ten points from each judge for a total of fifty possible points. We'll begin with Mr. Krum, who faced the Chinese Fireball!"

How the judges had managed to watch all six performances at once, Harry had no idea, but Bagman gave thoughtful insight into each champion's work. Krum had hit his dragon straight in the eye with a Conjunctivitis Curse – unfortunately, the Fireball had crushed half its real eggs as it stomped around in pain, and Krum paid for it in points. Fleur's contest with the Welsh Green was arguably the most unique, as she called on her veela heritage and spelled the dragon to sleep with her grandmother's songs. She suffered a few minor burns when the dragon snored unexpectedly and expelled a jet of fire, but otherwise, she retrieved her egg with little incident. Bastien had had rather a hard time of it, as several of his initial ideas failed against the unusually hard scales of the Horntail, and one of his hexes actually burned the dragon – this was the one that had caused the Horntail to lash out in pain and injure Harry. Peter, having faced the smallest dragon, was able to used a modified Stunning spell – it took him quite a while to find the one chink in the Vipertooth's armor, but once he did, he successfully slowed the dragon down considerably and was able to get his egg. Cedric was the cause of the barking Harry had heard during the task – he'd Transfigured a large rock into a dog, which was supposed to be a distraction for the Swedish Short-Snout. It sounded like an impressive bit of magic, but unfortunately, the dragon had changed targets while Cedric was still at the nest, and Cedric still had a thick smear of burn paste running down one side of his face. Shouts erupted from the crowd as each score was announced, and Harry was both shocked and thrilled to find that the final tally put him just behind Fleur in second place.

"And there you have it, folks!" Bagman said once the scores had been given. "Thus concludes the first task! The second task will take place on the twenty-fourth of February – champions, the clue inside your golden eggs will help you prepare for that task. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of your day, and we'll see you all at the celebratory feast this evening!" Bagman removed his amplification charm, and conversations grew exponentially louder as the crowd began to leave the arena.

"Harry – _Harry!"_

Harry turned and grinned when he saw Ginny, Draco, and Hermione leading what seemed to be the entirety of Gryffindor House towards him. His friends immediately showered him with hugs and congratulations, and the Weasley twins excitedly informed Harry that there was a celebratory party planned in Gryffindor Tower.

"You were brilliant!" Ginny exclaimed as Draco clapped Harry on the back. "Absolutely brilliant – Krum actually got distracted by your flying, you know!"

"Really?" Harry replied in shock.

"Sure did. Merlin, I wish you could've seen it – maybe we'll have to hunt down a Pensieve."

"Right now, I just want food," Harry said with a chuckle.

"Well, that's easy enough," Hermione chimed in. "Knowing Fred and George, they'll have enough to feed all of Gryffindor twice over."

"Excellent. Let's get going then!" The friends linked arms and strolled back towards Hogwarts, laughing all the way as they headed towards what promised to be a fun-filled afternoon.

* * *

**A/N: Aaaand we've made it through the first task - hope you liked my take on it! The next few chapters will be VERY exciting to write (ch. 13 includes the scene that inspired this entire series - I've been looking forward to writing it for months), so I hope you enjoy those as well.**

**Thank you for my new follows/faves/reviews, &amp; thanks to all of you for reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	12. The Trouble with Girls

Harry rode a wave of euphoria for nearly a week after the first task. In true Gryffindor fashion, the after-party was loud, raucous, and lasted well into the night – as a result, the Lions were extremely tired for their classes the next day, but they felt it was worth it. Everywhere he went, Harry received positive comments about his performance from his fellow students, many of them insisting that he was the best by far, and the Hufflepuffs stopped shooting him nasty looks – Harry suspected Cedric was behind this and resolved to thank his fellow champion as soon as possible. Even the Slytherins were unusually quiet – it seemed they couldn't find anything to openly ridicule about Harry, especially since he'd placed so well, and so they reverted to sneering at him instead. As this was normal, however, Harry wasn't too fussed. The model of the Ridgeback now lived on his bedside table, and he liked watching the curious little thing as it explored his belongings – unlike its full-sized counterpart, the model was completely tame and very playful.

During the first week of December, the Heads of House gathered the students in their common rooms to discuss the Yule Ball. The ball was open to fourth-years and above, though the invitees were permitted to ask younger students as their dates if they so chose, and formal dress was required. There was to be a special Hogsmeade trip scheduled for the weekend before the ball in case anyone wanted to try for some last minute shopping, and the ball would begin at eight o'clock Christmas night. The Heads stressed that while the ball was meant to be a fun evening, they still expected exemplary behavior from their students and would be very disappointed if anyone from Hogwarts caused trouble.

After the meetings, it seemed that the only topic of discussion throughout the castle was the upcoming ball. Girls whispered excitedly in the corridors as they compared notes on what they were going to wear and who they hoped to go with, and boys tried to work up the nerve to ask their preferred partners to the dance. Harry was feeling the pressure a bit more than his friends – as a champion, he was required to open the dancing, and he had no idea who he wanted to ask.

"This is bloody exhausting," he said as he flopped onto a couch in the Room of Requirement, where the boys were having an impromptu meeting to discuss the ball. "Who'd have thought getting a date would be so hard?"

"Mate, haven't you had like four different girls ask you already?" Neville asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"More like fourteen," Harry replied, sounding exasperated. "But I'd never even seen half of them before, never mind spoken to them! Is it too much to ask that I go with someone I'd actually enjoy spending four solid hours with?"

"Fair point," Blaise said. "If you have to bring a date, it might as well be someone you can stand to be around. What about your friends?"

"Well, my best female friend is obviously out," Harry said. "Isn't she?" he added, glancing sideways at Draco.

"I…well…" Draco began, but he couldn't seem to get any further.

"Drake, you haven't asked her yet?" Harry asked in shock. "Why not?" Draco bit his lip and stared at the floor.

"I don't really know," he muttered. "I guess I just…can't figure out how."

"Just go up to her and ask her," Harry said exasperatedly. "Merlin knows you two have been mad for each other for years – you can't tell me you've suddenly changed your mind and don't want to take her."

"Of course I want to take her!" Draco retorted.

"Well, you'd better get moving then," Blaise said diplomatically. "You wouldn't want to risk her going with someone else."

"Who are you going with, then?" Harry asked suddenly, the thought occurring to him that Blaise didn't seem concerned in the slightest. To his surprise, Draco snorted.

"You mean you don't know?" he asked. "He's going with Tracey, of course."

"What?" Harry sounded completely confused.

"We've been dating since mid-July," Blaise said, sounding amused. "Tracey wouldn't have risked sneaking out of her house to see me if I was merely her friend."

"Thanks for telling me, you prat," Harry said, though he chuckled. "Good on you, mate. You two are good together."

"What about you, Ron?" Neville asked. Ron had been strangely quiet until then.

"Er…not sure, really," he mumbled. "Haven't really thought about it, I guess." Harry sensed there was something Ron wasn't saying, but he didn't elaborate. If Ron wanted to say what was bothering him, he'd do it when he was ready.

"I need to get going," Neville said then after a glance at his watch. "Wanted to get a head start on that Potions essay – Merlin knows it'll take me forever." The rest of the boys agreed that they ought to be going as well and gathered up their bags.

"You alright, mate?" Harry asked Ron once they were alone. "You seemed…I dunno, hesitant about something."

"Your brother needs to get his act together, and fast," Ron replied.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking startled. _"You_ didn't ask Hermione to the ball, did you?"

"No!" Ron said hastily, holding up his hands defensively to emphasize the denial. "No, I didn't – I was talking to her about it the other day though, and when I asked if she had a date yet, she said yes. I wasn't sure if she really did have a date, or if she was just saying she did because she thought I was asking and she didn't want to go with me, but still…"

"I don't really know," Harry admitted as he ran his free hand through his hair. "I can't imagine who would've asked her – all our friends would know not to, at any rate – but…" He didn't say anything more, but Ron's words had left him worried. If someone else asked Hermione to the ball, would she feel compelled to say yes? Harry had a feeling she would – Hermione was the type of person who would feel guilty turning anyone down, no matter how badly she wanted to go with someone else. Hermione was no great beauty – even the Gryffindors had to admit that that title went to Daphne Greengrass – but she was still rather pretty in her own way, and her personality was appealing as well, so as much as Harry didn't want to think it, it wasn't that far-fetched of an idea that someone else _would _want to take her. He just hoped – for both of their sakes – that Draco asked her soon.

* * *

No less than six additional girls had approached Harry about the ball by the end of the week, and he decided then that enough was enough – by Monday morning, he was going to have a date. The problem was, who? He wasn't kidding when he'd told his friends he didn't want to go with someone he barely knew – that essentially narrowed down his options to his own year mates, and his Quidditch teammates. He ruled out the Slytherins in his year – Tracey was obviously taken, he was pretty sure Daphne Greengrass had a boyfriend, and Pansy and Millicent were both so horrible that he would've rather gone alone. Unfortunately, he didn't know the Ravenclaw girls all that well either, as they didn't share any classes together – they were nice enough, and Lisa Turpin was also quite attractive, but he didn't think he could make it through four hours with any of them without it being really awkward. That left Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. He made a mental list of the girls in those two houses and began crossing them off, surprising himself at how many of them he knew already had dates. Hannah was going with Ernie, Susan was going with Neville, Hermione was an obvious no, Lavender fell into the same category as Pansy and Millicent…

When the answer finally came to him, he nearly slapped his forehead in exasperation. Of course! He carefully packed up his books and the Astronomy essay he'd been working on and left the library, returning to Gryffindor Tower as quickly as he could. He was frustrated to find that his target didn't seem to be there, but then he spotted someone who might be able to help.

"Parvati – hey, Parvati!" Parvati and Lavender looked up from their Divination charts.

"What's up, Harry?" Harry had considered asking Parvati to the ball – she was a nice girl, after all, and quite beautiful with her exotic looks, but he'd ultimately decided against it. She was best friends with Lavender, whom he still couldn't stomach for more than five or ten minutes at a time, and she worshipped Professor Trelawney, whose subject Harry thought was absolute rubbish. The only thing they really had in common were their classes, and Harry suspected neither he nor anyone else would be keen to talk homework on what was supposed to be a fun night.

"Have you seen Eloise?" Harry asked. "I wanted to talk to her."

"Erm…she went up to the dorms about fifteen minutes ago," Parvati replied. "Do you need me to go get her?"

"No, that's alright," Harry assured her. "I'll just do some work until she comes back down." He chose a table near the fire and resumed work on his Astronomy paper, and he was just about finished when Eloise emerged.

"Hey, Eloise," Harry greeted her. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Um…sure?" she said. "What about?"

"Let's head down to dinner, yeah?" Harry suggested. He suspected that Eloise wouldn't appreciate it very much if he did what he was about to do in front of the entire common room. He pushed open the portrait hole and stepped aside to let her through, then allowed the Fat Lady to close entirely before turning to face her.

"What's this about, Harry?" Eloise asked. She cocked her head to one side, her corkscrew curls bouncing as she did so.

"Eloise, will you go to the ball with me?" Harry said quickly. Her eyes widened.

"You…you want to go with _me?"_ she squeaked. "But…why?"

"Because you're my friend," Harry replied. "I'd have a much better time with someone I already get along with." When Eloise bit her lip, still looking doubtful, Harry continued, "I really do want to go with you, Eloise. Please say yes?" She looked up at him, and when she saw the sincerity in his eyes, her expression morphed into a sheepish grin, her cheeks flushing bright red.

"Alright, then," she said, a nervous giggle slipping loose. "I'd love to go with you, Harry, thank you."

"My pleasure," Harry replied, and he couldn't help himself from grinning too. "Shall we head down to dinner?"

* * *

December seemed to fly by, and soon, there was only a week until the ball. Dozens of students were bundling up in preparation for the trip to Hogsmeade, many of them intent on finding something special to add to their formal attire, and couples were finalizing plans for the night of. Hermione, Ginny, and Tracey planned to grab a drink in the Three Broomsticks before helping Tracey find something to wear in her hair, and they were looking forward to the girls' day out. They stepped out of their carriage into the snow, which was blowing merrily about in little whirlwinds, and set off down the high street. They were perusing a selection of hair ornaments in a little boutique down a side street when Draco found them.

"Er…Lotte?" he asked hesitantly. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," she said. "What's up?" He gestured towards the shop's entrance, silently indicating that he wanted to talk to her alone, and she obliged.

"I'll be right back," she told the girls. Ginny bit her lip and gave her an 'I'm sorry' look, and Hermione nodded before following Draco from the shop.

"What is it, Dragon?" Hermione said softly.

"Lotte, I…dammit, why is this so difficult?" he muttered to himself. "Will…will you go to the ball with me?"

"Oh, Draco," she whispered. Her eyes were wide and clearly showed the tears that threatened to spill. "I wish I could, I really do."

"What…what do you mean?" Draco asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"I'm already going with someone," Hermione replied, so quietly he almost didn't hear her. The tears really did start to fall then, and she sniffed loudly before managing to speak again. "He…he asked me ages ago, the day after the ball was announced, actually, and while I asked him if I could have some time to think about it, I couldn't keep him waiting forever – especially not a champion." Draco swore his heart dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes.

"A…a champion?" he repeated. "Lotte, who are you going with?"

"Viktor Krum," she whispered. "Viktor Krum asked me to the ball." She sniffed again. "I don't really know why – the only times we'd talked to that point were a few times he asked me where things were in the library, but he told me he wanted to go with me because I was one of the few people who wasn't fawning all over him, because I talked to him like he was just like everyone else…and I kept waiting in case you were going to ask me, I _wanted_ you to ask me, but then you didn't, and I already felt terrible for not giving him a straight answer as long as I had…so I told him yes. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Draco said heavily. And he meant it – Hermione hadn't done anything wrong, not at all. He'd waited too long, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

"I…I know someone you could ask, if you still want to find a date," Hermione said cautiously.

"Who?" Hermione told him, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"I could do that," he said. "Though I'm surprised she doesn't already have a date."

"I can assure you she doesn't," Hermione replied. "And I think she'd say yes if you asked her." She stepped forward and hugged him. "I'm so sorry, Dragon," she said softly.

"It's ok, Lotte, really," Draco said as he returned the embrace. "I'll just have to see if I can steal you away for a dance." He gave her the best semblance of a smile he could before squeezing her once more.

"I won't keep the girls waiting for you any longer," he said. "I'll see you tonight at dinner?"

"Of course."

* * *

That night, Draco asked Ginny to hang back after the rest of their friends had left the Room of Requirement.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said as she perched on one of the sofas.

"Sorry?" Draco repeated.

"I know what happened today, in Hogsmeade," Ginny elaborated. "I was the first one she told, actually, right after he first asked her – I don't think I've ever seen her so upset."

"It's not her fault," Draco said, repeating what he'd told Hermione earlier. "I was just too much of a coward to ask her in time."

"I don't think that makes you a coward," Ginny said. "You've carried a torch for her for seven years now, but you've never really had to express it so openly before – I'm not surprised you were nervous. Anyway, what did you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering if you'd go to the ball with me, actually," Draco admitted. Ginny looked at him in shock.

"You want to go with me?" she said in disbelief.

"It's not a pity thing, I promise," Draco added hastily. "I really do want to go with you – you're funny, you're smart, you're my friend, and even I have to admit you're attractive." Ginny blushed, her new complexion clashing horribly with her red hair.

"The flattery isn't necessary, Drake," she said, barely containing her giggles. "I'll go with you." Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

"Excellent," he said. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall – let's say, ten minutes till eight, right by the steps down to the dungeons, just to make it easy?"

"Works for me," Ginny replied with a grin. "Thanks, Draco."

"No, thank _you,"_ Draco said. "Thank you for saying yes, in spite of everything." Ginny smiled softly.

"Anytime."

* * *

**A/N: Don't kill me, please - it had to happen...  
**

**Thank you for the new follows/faves/reviews, &amp; to all of you for reading!  
**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please let me know what you think, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	13. Always Forgiven

On the morning of the twenty-fifth, Harry awoke to see fat, fluffy flakes drifting past his dormitory window to join the thick blanket of fresh snow coating the Hogwarts grounds. He pulled on his glasses and grinned – they didn't always have snow for Christmas back home, and he planned to make the most of it. A small pile of parcels at the foot of his bed caught his attention, and he wasted no time in rousing his roommates with cries of "Happy Christmas!" and – in the case of Ron, anyway – a playful whack with his pillow. In no time at all, the five boys were tearing away at their presents, exclaiming happily as they examined their new things. Harry had unwrapped a pocket Sneakoscope, two boxes of sweets, and a new jumper from Mrs. Weasley when the dormitory door burst open.

"Happy Christmas!" Hermione said as she launched herself onto his bed and hugged him tightly. "Happy Christmas, all of you!"

"Happy Christmas, Hermione!" the boys chorused. She beamed and presented Harry with a gaily wrapped box.

"I do hope you like them," she said earnestly. "I debated over them for ages." Harry tore off the paper – sticking the overly curly bow on top of Hermione's head for good measure – and removed two leather-bound volumes from the wrappings.

"Maya, these are great!" he said appreciatively. "Thanks!" The first book was a history of Puddlemere United, and the second was full of Quidditch tactics and maneuvers, complete with detailed guides on implementing each.

"Who knows? You might need that second one, if that Quidditch Captain badge ever comes your way," Hermione said with a grin.

"Oh, stop, Maya," Harry replied, but he grinned too and hugged her once more. "Thank you, really. You're the best." Hermione then passed out her gifts for the rest of the boys, which turned out to be a book on water plants for Neville, a pair of Chudley Cannons gloves for Ron, and an assortment of Honeydukes sweets for Seamus and Dean. Dean lamented not having thought to get her anything in return, but Hermione reassured him that it was fine – after all, she was already getting to spend Christmas with all of them, something she didn't normally do, and she was more than happy with that.

"You'll have to wait a bit for your present," Harry told her. "It's from both of us – Draco and I, that is – and he wants to be there when you open it."

"I can wait," Hermione said. "In fact, I think I can wait for everything right now, save breakfast – anyone care to join me?"

In the spirit of the holiday, nobody bothered getting dressed, and so it was that a large group of pajama- and slipper-clad Gryffindors made their way downstairs to the Great Hall, talking and laughing the whole way. Ginny, Eloise, Harry's Quidditch teammates, and a number of their other friends and classmates had joined in the fun, and they were quite a happy bunch as they found seats at their table and tucked in to enormous plates of pancakes, bacon, and toast.

Draco, Tracey, and Blaise made an appearance not long after, and though the sheer number of people still in the castle prevented them from sitting with their friends, they made sure to stop and say hello to everyone before grabbing breakfast for themselves. Once they'd all had their fill, Harry pulled Hermione aside, and Draco hastened to join them when Harry motioned him over.

"Happy Christmas, Maya," Harry said as he withdrew a slender box from his dressing gown pocket. Hermione accepted the box and carefully unwrapped it, and she gasped quietly when she lifted the lid.

"Oh…" she said softly. Nestled in the box was a bracelet with three small charms attached – the first was a broomstick, the second was a book, and the third was a wolf. The sterling silver jewelry somehow managed to forgo the childish appearance of most charm bracelets – in fact, it was actually quite an elegant piece.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said, looking at the boys with shining eyes. "I love it, thank you so much."

"The broomstick and book will change once we all have corporeal Patronuses – there are a bunch of protection spells worked into the metal as well," Harry explained, knowing that Hermione would appreciate the bracelet's practicality as much as its physical appearance. "We were hoping you might wear it for the first time at the ball tonight."

"Of course I will," Hermione replied. "How could I not? It's absolutely perfect." She closed the box and held it to her chest, then hugged both of them fiercely.

"Thank you," she whispered again. "I love you both, so, so much."

"We love you too, Lotte," Draco replied. Hermione smiled fondly at them both.

"We've still got a whole day ahead of us before the ball," Harry said then. "How about we make the most of the time and take advantage of that snow?"

The rest of the morning, and much of the afternoon as well, was taken up with what was arguably the largest snowball fight Hogwarts had ever seen. At first, the participants split into two teams and did their best to construct solid forts while stockpiling as many snowballs as possible, but once the forts fell, the fight quickly turned into a free-for-all, and shrieks of laughter carried far across the grounds as people pelted each other left and right. Members of all four houses threw snow for all they were worth, and a small number of students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang jumped in as well. Nobody seemed to care how cold and wet they were getting, and Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he watched house loyalties and language barriers fall in favor of their glittering playground.

At four o'clock, a number of the girls finally called it quits, citing the rapidly approaching ball as their reason for leaving. When a Hufflepuff sixth-year Harry didn't know asked why on earth they all needed four hours to get ready, one of the girls replied that she'd quite like to be able to warm up and have something to eat as well, since dinner was going to be served later than usual as part of the ball. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do, once they'd thought about it, and so they bid the girls goodbye for the time being.

The fourth-year girls' dormitory was a flurry of activity for the rest of the afternoon. Hermione called for Dobby and requested a large pitcher of cocoa for everyone to share, and Dobby happily obliged, even adding a tray of pretty little cakes for the girls to munch on. Hermione's roommates thanked Dobby profusely and gushed over the cocoa, which made the little elf beam – it was his own special recipe, he told them.

After their snack, the girls took turns bathing, relishing in the lovely feel of the hot water, and the entire dormitory soon smelled like the various flowery scents of their shampoos and soaps. Ginny arrived shortly thereafter, her friend and roommate Demelza Robins in tow. Demelza was Ron's date – she was tall for her age and had dark hair that flowed halfway down her back and large, deep brown eyes.

"Hey, Gin," Hermione greeted her. Ginny returned the greeting and introduced Demelza to the rest of the room's occupants, and then they set to work on each other's hair and makeup. As Hermione's wild curls would take a while to tame, Ginny started with her while Demelza chatted with Eloise. Lavender and Parvati were busy painting each other's nails, giggling madly over the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_ as they did so.

It took nearly two hours for Ginny to finish with Hermione, but when she did, she smiled in satisfaction.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning Hermione towards the mirror. Ginny had purposely kept her friend from seeing what she'd been doing, and she hoped she'd be pleased.

"Oh, Hermione, you look lovely," Eloise breathed. Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the compliment but silently had to agree. With the help of a liberal amount of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, Ginny had coaxed Hermione's hair into two thick braids, which she'd then pinned around the back of Hermione's head like a crown. Tiny jeweled hairpins completed the look. She'd then given her friend the barest hints of makeup, just enough to accentuate Hermione's eyes. Hermione almost didn't recognize herself.

"Beautiful," Ginny agreed. "Now you just have to get your dress on, and you'll be good to go."

"Thank you, Gin," Hermione said appreciatively.

"You can thank me by having a good time tonight," Ginny replied with a chuckle. "Now, who's up next?"

At twenty minutes to eight, the girls were finally ready, and they giggled nervously as they carefully made their way down the spiral staircase to the common room. The fourth-year boys were waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, don't you ladies look fine this evening!" Fred called across the common room when he spotted them. "Although I'm not sure how I feel about my baby sister being so grown up…" He sniffed dramatically and wiped away an imaginary tear.

"Oh, stop it, Freddie," Ginny laughed. "Ange, you look great!" Angelina Johnson, who was Fred's date for the evening, grinned broadly.

"Right back at you, Gin," she said. "All of you, you look fabulous." Katie Bell, who stood next to her, nodded in agreement. Katie was dating Oliver Wood, but as he was no longer at Hogwarts and was therefore ineligible to attend the ball, she was going with George.

Ginny turned her attention back to the fourth-years. Lavender and Seamus were already heading out, Parvati and Dean in tow – Parvati was going to help Dean find Padma before joining her own date, a boy from Beauxbatons. Demelza was talking Quidditch with Ron – Ginny was glad Demelza had agreed to go with her brother, as Ron had no clue what to do around girls. At least they had something in common to talk about – Demelza even liked the Cannons, although she preferred the Harpies.

Harry had been struck speechless when the girls had appeared. They all looked so different from usual…but Fred's assessment was more than accurate as well. His eyes fell on Eloise as she regarded him nervously. She was wearing a red velvet dress that fell to her knees, and wide silver and gold ribbons wound through her bouncy curls in a makeshift headband. She appeared to have used a cream or other product on her face, as her normally problematic acne had been reduced to almost nothing, and Harry could see the smattering of freckles across her nose. While he didn't really feel anything for Eloise romantically, he couldn't deny that those freckles were absolutely adorable.

"You look great," he told her truthfully as he stepped aside. He offered her his arm, just like Sirius had taught him, and Eloise blushed furiously as she accepted it.

"Thanks," she said. "You…erm…you look nice too."

"Shall we?" Neville asked, addressing the group at large. "I told Susan I'd meet her in ten minutes…"

"Susan?" Eloise repeated. "Susan Bones?" It was Neville's turn to blush.

"You remember that big Herbology project we had at the beginning of term?" he said. "We were partners, and, um…"

"Oh, that's so sweet," Ginny cooed. "A romance from a partnership…although I'm pretty sure only you could form a crush over something involving plants," she added with a giggle. Neville punched her arm good-naturedly.

"In any case, we should get going," he repeated. "The ball starts soon, and our favorite champion, at least, can't be late."

The entrance hall was packed with students, and the multicolored hues of their formalwear made the crowd seem even larger. The group of Gryffindors split at the bottom of the marble staircase – Harry, Hermione, and Eloise headed for the entrance to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall was ushering the champions into lines; Neville made for the hallway leading to the Hufflepuff common room; and Ginny went to the stairs into the dungeons. Draco, Tracey, and Blaise weren't there yet, so she leaned against the stone wall to wait.

Draco was, in fact, still in the Slytherin common room, waiting for Tracey and Blaise. He glanced at his watch and silently willed them to hurry up – he was supposed to meet Ginny in less than ten minutes. A soft noise from the dormitories caught his attention, and he turned, surprised to find himself face-to-face with Daphne Greengrass.

Daphne was, without a doubt, the prettiest girl in his year. She was tall and slim, with honey-colored hair that tumbled halfway down her back and deep blue eyes. However, she was also incredibly soft-spoken, and Draco doubted he'd said more than two dozen words to her in their three and a half years as housemates. He decided to start with the obvious, if only to break the painful silence.

"You look very nice, Daphne." She'd coiled her long hair into an elaborate twist on the top of her head, and her floaty, cream-colored dress reminded him of a Greek goddess. Her makeup was minimal – not like the thick layers Parkinson had caked on, which he'd noticed all too well when she'd attempted to corner him earlier – and simple golden bangles adorned her wrists.

"Thank you," Daphne said, sounding slightly surprised that he'd spoken. "You clean up nicely as well. Are you…waiting for someone, then?"

"Just Tracey and Blaise," he replied. "I'm meeting my date upstairs."

"Hermione, I'm guessing?" Daphne didn't sound venomous at all, merely curious.

"No," Draco said, doing his best to hide his feelings on that matter. "I'm going with Ginny Weasley, actually."

"Oh…well, I do hope you have a good time." Daphne looked at her feet then, her expression awkward. "I…you do know that not all of us are awful, right?"

"Who?" Draco asked, utterly confused.

"The Slytherins," Daphne replied. "I mean…you must, since you're friends with Blaise and Tracey – and they're good people, they really are – but there are a lot more of us than you think." She didn't say anything further, but Draco somehow got her hidden meaning – it was nice to know that there were other Snakes who thought the blood purity stuff was rubbish.

"Thanks, Daph," he said, and she smiled slightly at the impromptu nickname.

"I thought you should know," she said with a shrug. "If you ever need…anything, you know where to find me, at least." Just then, Tracey and Blaise emerged from the dormitories, followed by Adrian Pucey, Daphne's long-term boyfriend. Adrian fit the 'tall, dark, and handsome' image to a T, and together, they made quite the striking couple. After exchanging pleasantries with the newcomers, the five Slytherins made their way upstairs to the ball.

Even though they were just friends, Draco had to admit that Ginny was indeed very pretty. Her dress was a light green color and flared to just below her knees, a cream sash tied in a bow in the back. She'd pulled her hair into a half ponytail and curled it ever so slightly, and she'd lightly lined her eyes and applied a sparkly gloss to her lips. The look was age-appropriate, yet feminine at the same time, and Draco thought she looked very nice.

"Good evening, Ginny," Draco said as he caught sight of her. "You look lovely." He raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her fingers, causing Ginny to giggle.

"You don't look half bad yourself, Mr. Black," she replied. He and Harry had chosen to go with Muggle suits for the event, and Ginny thought they both looked very handsome.

The tolling of the clock caught their attention, and Professor McGonagall's magnified voice requested that they all take their seats in the Great Hall. Draco offered Ginny his arm, and they followed Tracey and Blaise as the throng of students entered a winter wonderland. The house tables were gone, replaced by dozens of smaller tables, and a dance floor took up most of the room's center. Everlasting icicles glittered from every surface, and snow fell from the enchanted ceiling, the flakes evaporating into nothing mere feet above their heads. The usual twelve Christmas trees sparkled with fairy lights and baubles, and a small stage to one side was set for the musical portion of the evening. Draco and Ginny joined Tracey and Blaise, Neville and Susan, and Ron and Demelza at one of the tables, and the girls gushed happily over each other's dresses.

Once everyone was seated, the doors to the Great Hall opened once more, and a hush fell over the room as the champions entered. Fleur Delacour, accompanied by Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain Roger Davies, led the procession. Bastien was with a Beauxbatons girl, and Peter's date was Alicia Spinnet. Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang were next, followed by Harry and Eloise, who was blushing furiously but smiling all the same. It was the last pair, however, that captured Draco's attention – Krum and Hermione. Hermione's dress was a periwinkle blue and fell to her feet like silk. The v-shaped neckline was lower than anything she'd ever worn but still tasteful, and sheer sleeves floated to just above her elbows. Sapphire studs, a gift from her parents, sparkled in her ears, and the charm bracelet adorned her wrist. There weren't words – she was absolutely stunning.

The champions paraded up to the high table and bowed to the heads before taking their assigned seats. With a flourish, dinner began. The food was exquisite, and everyone commented favorably as they enjoyed the meal. Pleasant conversation flowed easily, and Draco couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction when he caught Pansy glaring at him from a few tables over. She, of course, had tried everything in her power to get Draco to ask her to the ball, and when that had failed, she'd discoursed loudly on her acceptance of Theodore Nott's invitation, presumably to make Draco jealous. The fact that he was here with Ginny, who Pansy despised and viewed as a blood traitor, was almost definitely the proverbial nail in the coffin. Daphne, he noticed, was not at Pansy's table, but was seated with a mixed group of older Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and he was happy for her that she seemed to be enjoying herself. Pansy wasn't outwardly hostile towards Daphne, but she wasn't exactly friendly, either.

The dinner plates finally cleared, and Dumbledore gestured for the champions to take to the dance floor. The Weird Sisters, who were providing the music for the evening, took to the stage amidst wild applause, and they struck up a waltz for the first dance. The six pairs held the attention of everyone in the room as they danced, and the Heads of School soon joined their champions. While he was still upset with himself for failing to ask Hermione in time – and somewhat satisfied to see that Krum was decidedly less graceful on the ground than he was on a broom – Draco had decided that he was going to do all he could to ensure that Ginny enjoyed herself, and so he stood and offered her his hand.

"Shall we?" he asked. She nodded and accepted his hand, and they were soon spinning around the floor, numerous other couples joining them as they danced.

The evening was, by and large, even more fun than anyone had anticipated. The Weird Sisters alternated between ballroom tunes and their more recent popular hits, and the students had a grand time letting loose on the dance floor. Harry laughed uproariously as Eloise tried to teach him how to twist, and Neville twirled Susan with surprising grace, her long plait whipping behind her as she spun. Draco stole Tracey for a dance while Blaise took a turn with Ginny, and even Ron, who wasn't much of a dancer, was spotted shuffling around, Demelza giggling almost uncontrollably as she jumped beside him. In between dances, they'd camp out at the tables, mugs of foaming butterbeer or cocoa in their hands as they laughed and chatted the night away. The professors seemed to be enjoying themselves as well – though not quite as exuberant as the students, they definitely spent their fair share of time dancing. Professor Flitwick was particularly entertaining, daring to join in on some of the more upbeat numbers, and Madame Maxime was surprisingly graceful for such a large woman. Even Moody, who'd been decidedly gruffer and more difficult since the foreigners' arrival, was spotted doing an odd little two-step with Professor Sinistra, though the Astronomy professor was looking somewhat uncomfortable as she navigated around his wooden leg.

The only thing that hadn't yet happened was Draco meeting up with Hermione – Krum had hardly let her go all night, and as a result, Draco hadn't even been able to talk to her, never mind ask her for a dance. It was nearing half eleven when he spotted Krum leaving the hall, Hermione in tow. She looked somewhat uncomfortable, and Draco couldn't help but follow her with his eyes as she disappeared from view.

"Go."

Draco looked down at Ginny, with whom he'd been slowly revolving on the spot.

"What?" he asked.

"Go after her," Ginny said. Draco didn't have to ask who she meant.

"But-"

"Listen, Draco," she interrupted. "I've had a marvelous time tonight, really. I'm really glad I could come, and I'm even more pleased that I was able to do so with a close friend. But we both know something didn't look quite right just now – you need to follow them, pronto."

"I'd feel bad for leaving you," Draco said uncertainly.

"Draco, I just said it was ok," Ginny replied, almost impatiently. "I'm about ready for bed anyway, and Neville and Susan just left – if I hurry, I can walk up to Gryffindor Tower with him." Standing up on her tiptoes, she swiftly kissed his cheek.

"This is your chance, so take it," she said softly. Without another word, she squeezed his hand before hurrying from the hall.

Draco allowed himself to absorb what had just happened for only a moment before he too left the Great Hall. His instincts took him outside, and he discovered that the front lawn had been transformed into an enchanted grotto of sorts, elaborate topiaries and flowers of every variety decorating the area. Heating charms kept the grotto warm, which was appreciated since nobody had worn outerwear to the ball, and Draco could hear a couple of fountains bubbling somewhere in the gardens. There was a path leading into the hedges, and he followed it. At first, he encountered nothing save a few enthusiastically snogging couples, but a little further on, he heard what sounded like an argument. One of the voices was as familiar to him as his own, and he stopped just out of sight to listen.

"Let go of me – ouch!"

"Fiery, this one, Viktor." The smirk in the speaker's voice was almost audible.

"Come vith us," Viktor persuaded. "I promise ve vill make it vorth your vhile."

_"Vile_ is all you are," Hermione spat. "I can't believe you!"

"You're coming vith us, and that is final." Viktor's tone was decidedly darker.

"No, I am _not!"_

"Just shut up and-"

"I believe the young lady said _no,"_ Draco interjected, deciding that he'd heard more than enough and stepping forward to make his presence known. "Unless I'm _very _much mistaken, we're all pretty clear on the meaning of that word." Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked almost afraid to see him standing there.

"Keep out of this," Krum's friend growled. "It is none of your business."

"Actually, I have to disagree with you there," Draco said. "It is very much my business."

"Just who do you think you are?" Krum spat.

"My name is Draco Black, and I am Hermione's best friend," Draco replied coldly. "And if that surname doesn't mean anything to you, perhaps the Malfoy name does?" Normally, he hated connecting himself with his father's name in any way, but this was hardly a normal situation. He almost smirked when Krum's companion paled, and Krum himself suddenly looked less sure.

"Ah, so I see at least one of those names _does_ mean something to you," Draco continued, his eyes glittering maliciously. "Not that that's really the point, though – the bigger issue, of course, is how would the Heads of School feel if they heard that a champion had tried to take advantage of a minor? Somehow I don't think that'd go over too well, no matter who you are."

"Enough," Krum snapped. "It vas just a bit of fun – and besides, vhat made you think I'd vant to do anything vith her anyvay? She's nothing but a Mudblood, after all."

Hermione had her skirt hiked to her knees and her wand drawn from the holster strapped to her calf before anyone could blink.

"Say that again, I dare you," she growled.

"Is that not the proper vord?" Krum asked mockingly. "Ve haff our own vord for people like you, of course, but your house of green and silver has so kindly taught us the English one…" Hermione's wand thrust forward a little more until it was mere inches from Krum's nose.

_"What_ is your problem?" she hissed. "If I am, in fact, so repulsive to you, then why did you invite me tonight?"

"You are Potter's girl," Krum scoffed. "Surely you can figure out the rest?"

"You disgusting pig," Hermione spat. "If you thought you could actually convince me to give you information on Harry, you were sorely mistaken. Now get out of here, both of you, before I show you just how dangerous a 'Mudblood' can be." Something in Hermione's fierce gaze must've shown the Durmstrang students that she wasn't joking, because they turned and fled the clearing without another word.

As soon as Krum and his friend were gone, Hermione's wand clattered to the ground and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Draco said nothing but crouched beside her and pulled her close, rubbing her back as she cried.

"I'm such a bloody mess," she sniffed once she'd managed to regain some semblance of speech. "Everyone else was having such a good time tonight, and I fell for his stupid tricks, and…"

"Ssshhh," Draco said. "They're gone now, and you're ok – that's what matters." He waited for her to calm down a bit more before helping her to her feet and pulling her to him. They were much too far away to hear the Weird Sisters anymore, and so Draco began to hum an entirely different tune, one that had held meaning for them since the day they'd met, and they swayed gently from side to side as they imagined the sounds of a lone violin in the still night air.

When he was a little over halfway through the song, Hermione supplied a lyric of her own. Her voice was thick with tears and she cracked a little on the higher notes, but Draco heard her clear as day:

"Dragon, my soul was weak, forgive me."

Draco's heart broke. Hermione had had a positively awful evening, and she apparently thought the entire thing was her fault. Before she could continue, he stepped back a little and firmly pressed his index finger to her lips.

"Lotte, you're always forgiven," he whispered, managing to keep in rhythm while altering the words to suit his needs. He wanted so badly to kiss her then, to show her how much he cared for her and how much he believed what he'd just said, but he didn't – Hermione's emotions were in a complete shambles, and if he made a move now, he'd be no better than Krum. So instead, he brushed away her tears and added, "Except there's nothing to forgive, because none of this is your fault."

"But, I-"

"But nothing, Lotte," he said firmly. "None of this is your fault – _none_ of it. The blame is his and his alone, and don't you dare think otherwise." Truth be told, he was having a hard time refraining from running off to the Durmstrang ship to tear Krum limb from limb, but he kept himself in check and instead tightened his hold on Hermione.

"Is the ball almost over?" Hermione asked then. Draco glanced at his watch and nodded.

"It's a quarter till," he said. "We should head in now, if we don't want to have to fight the crowds." Hermione nodded, and the two returned to the castle in companionable silence.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked as they reached the entrance hall.

"She's already gone up to bed," Draco said. "And she was the one who told me to follow you, actually."

"I'm glad she did," Hermione said genuinely.

"May I escort you back up to your common room?" Draco asked, offering his arm. "After all, Padfoot and Mum would have my head if I let you go alone." Hermione managed a giggle and accepted his arm.

"You may," she said, "though I do believe I'll be doing the leading, as I know where I'm going and you don't." It was Draco's turn to laugh, and the two began the long trek up to Gryffindor Tower.

They passed a few people on the lower floors, but the seventh floor passage leading to the Fat Lady was entirely deserted. They stopped walking ten paces or so from the portrait, and Hermione turned to face Draco.

"Thank you, Dragon," she said softly.

"There's nothing to thank me for," he replied just as quietly. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"You've got something…sparkly on your cheek," Hermione said then.

"Oh…Ginny," Draco replied, warming slightly. "For…encouragement, I guess, when she was practically kicking me out the door after you." Hermione laughed quietly and brushed the gloss away with her thumb.

For a long moment, they merely looked at each other, neither exactly sure what to say to end the evening. Finally, however, Hermione cautiously brought her free hand up to mirror the one still resting on Draco's cheek.

"Always forgiven," she whispered, almost to herself, and with that, she boosted herself up ever so slightly and closed the distance between them.

It was just a chaste, brief meeting of lips, but it was most definitely still a kiss, and they were both rather pink when Hermione pulled away. They smiled sheepishly at each other and chuckled nervously, and Draco pulled Hermione to him in an embrace. Neither moved for quite some time, but Hermione eventually dislodged herself gently.

"I should get to bed, and you should get going before the hallways get too crowded," she said.

"You're probably right," Draco agreed. "Goodnight, Lotte – sleep well." He leaned forward and kissed her gently once more, and Hermione gave him a soft smile.

"Goodnight, Dragon," she said. She turned and quietly gave the password to a large woman in a pink silk dress, and the portrait swung open to admit her.

"You're different from most Slytherins, aren't you?" Draco jumped, not expecting the Fat Lady to address him.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Though my primary task is to guard the home of the Gryffindors, I do travel through the castle on occasion, child," she said quietly. If anyone else ever addressed him as such, Draco probably would've protested, but he felt it oddly appropriate here – there was no telling how old her portrait was, and on top of that, she'd been chosen to guard Gryffindor's dormitories, which meant that she could very well be the founder's mother or someone equally important. "Salazar's students tend not to treat Muggle-borns so kindly, so I'm always glad when I find one who goes against the grain. That girl is extremely special – she deserves the moon, the stars, and everything in between, so see to it that you treat her right."

"Yes, ma'am," Draco replied. "She is absolutely special, and I'll do my best."

"Good lad. You'd best be going, now – midnight passed three minutes ago, and I'm sure you'll want to be well on your way before everyone leaves the ball." Draco glanced at his watch and saw she was right – thanks to everything that had just happened, he hadn't even heard the bells toll.

"Thank you," he said, and he meant it.

* * *

**A/N: FINALLY! I cannot tell you how long I've been waiting to write this chapter - the 'always forgiven' scene in the garden is what inspired this entire series. In case you'd like to know/have forgotten/etc., the song is 'Angel of Music' from Phantom of the Opera - the actual lyrics that Hermione &amp; Draco alter are 'Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me/Enter at last, Master'. (Draco's change is obviously much more drastic, but the rhythm still fits.) Sorry to say that Krum is most definitely not who he is in canon, but sometimes that's how it works out. And maybe it's just me, but the fact that this is the 13th chapter of my 13th story has to mean something - 13 is my lucky number, after all.**

**Also...it's my birthday a week from Monday (no joke - I'll be 26). Can I get some reviews as an early present? :D**

**Thank you for my new follows/faves/reviews, &amp; thanks to all of you for reading! It means a lot to me that people are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	14. Headline News

Hogwarts was very quiet on Boxing Day. Most people had stayed awake in their common rooms reminiscing about the ball long after midnight had come and gone, and they all slept in as a result. Once they'd finally woken, however, it was to face the unpleasant fact that Christmas was now over, and they couldn't really ignore their piles of holiday work any longer.

The Friday after the ball, Hermione was taking advantage of her empty dormitory and working on an Arithmancy problem set – Lavender and Parvati had gone to Hogsmeade, and Eloise had gone home for a few days to visit her family. She'd just figured out the key to a particularly difficult equation when Ginny burst into the room, looking both flustered and excited.

"Hey, Gin," Hermione said, reaching towards her nightstand to take a sip from the mug of cocoa sitting there. "What's up?"

"Herms, why didn't you tell me you snogged Draco after the ball?" Ginny burst out. Hermione only just saved herself from upending her mug as she coughed violently.

"Wh-_what?"_ she spluttered. "Whatever gave you that idea?" In response, Ginny tossed a magazine onto Hermione's bed. The glossy tabloid, which she recognized as _Witch Weekly,_ was open to a page in the middle, where a small piece caught her attention:

_Gryffindor's Golden Girl, or Hogwarts' Heartbreaker?_

_Harry Potter's name is one of the most recognizable in the Wizarding world, and he gave us even more to talk about with his daredevil display against the Norwegian Ridgeback in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament last month, _writes Rita Skeeter. _However, in spite of his accomplishments, we must not forget that Harry, in many ways, is a boy like any other. He left the task arm-in-arm with one Hermione Granger, a fellow Gryffindor student, and reliable sources say that the pair are rarely seen apart. _

_"They're always together, laughing and joking," a classmate says. "It's obvious there's some sort of connection there."_

_Young Mr. Potter may wish to reconsider before declaring his hidden feelings, however. Miss Granger, it seems, isn't satisfied with attaching herself to just one famous wizard, and she happily accepted an invitation to the Yule Ball from Bulgarian Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum himself. Miss Granger rarely left Mr. Krum's side all evening, yet not moments after the final dance with her swoon-worthy date, she was spotted sharing a passionate embrace in the enchanted gardens with classmate Draco Black, better known as the son of notorious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, and the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. This reporter cannot say for sure what Miss Granger's motives are for so rapidly collecting the hearts of the rich and famous, but whatever game she's playing is most certainly a dangerous one. _

_"She's not even remotely pretty," a fellow fourth-year reports. "She's absurdly smart, though – I wouldn't be surprised if love potions were involved."_

_Regardless of the method, the situation is unsettling to say the least. Gentlemen, there's a new heartbreaker at Hogwarts – guard yourselves well._

For a long time after she'd finished reading, Hermione merely stared at the magazine in silence. Finally, however, she managed to find her voice.

"How did she know?" she nearly whispered.

"How did she know what?" Ginny asked. She cautiously took a seat on the edge of Hermione's bed, knowing that the article had upset her friend.

"How did she know about the garden?" Hermione hissed, her expression livid.

"So you _did_ snog Draco, then?" Ginny ventured.

"We…ok fine, we kissed, but not in the garden, and…and that's not the point!" Hermione replied, though she now seemed more flustered than angry.

"Herms, it's ok," Ginny said, reaching over to squeeze her friend's hand. "It's about time you two got your act together. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Hermione sighed.

"Alright," she conceded, "but how did you even know that we'd kissed? We haven't told anyone." In spite of her best efforts not to, she was blushing furiously.

"Skeeter's articles, no matter how skewed, are always based in fact, even if it is very loosely," Ginny said with a shrug. "She twists the truth as it suits her, but there's usually at least _something_ driving the article. You just have to know how to look for what's real and what isn't – in this case, I know that you and Harry regard each other as siblings, and unless I'm very much mistaken, you most definitely weren't happy when you accepted Krum's invitation to the ball. Unless you're under some sort of spell, you're not toying around with anyone…so by process of elimination, I guessed that the part about you and Draco in the garden was closest to the truth."

"Not bad," Hermione admitted. "But like I said, nothing happened in the garden – nothing like that, anyway."

"So where _did_ it happen, and when?" Ginny demanded eagerly. She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin up on her hands, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her expectant expression and overly bright eyes.

"Outside Gryffindor Tower, just before midnight," she said softly, smiling a little as the memory surfaced. "I hadn't been having much fun up until then – Skeeter was right when she said I rarely left Krum's side, but that wasn't by choice. He wouldn't _let_ me leave – he even followed when I went to the loo! He kept me occupied with conversation all through dinner – which, by the way, we spent nearly ten minutes of trying to get him to say my name properly, and he _still_ can't do it – and I was in the company of Durmstrangs all night. Some of them were really nice – although he wouldn't let me talk to Peter at all – but what I really wanted was to spend time with you lot. We danced near Harry and Eloise a few times, but when I mentioned seeing the rest of you, he got sulky. I don't think it was too long after that when you saw us leave the Great Hall."

"That was about half eleven," Ginny said.

"Yes, that sounds about right," Hermione agreed. She then proceeded to tell Ginny what had happened in the garden. Ginny's expression darkened rapidly as Hermione spoke, and by the time Hermione had reached the part where she'd sent Krum and his friend running, she looked murderous.

"How _dare_ he!" she practically growled. "Hermione, why haven't you said anything? He tried to take advantage of you!"

"Trust me, Gin, I thought about it," Hermione replied, "but it's not worth it."

"Not worth it? Why not?"

"He's a Triwizard champion. According to the rules, nothing short of death can break the competition contract – even if I said anything, chances are they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Krum's here 'til the end, no matter what. Besides, if I told, Krum would know that he'd gotten to me, and I'm sure as hell not giving him that satisfaction. Nothing happened, he's an arse, I'm done with it."

"I supposed you're right, as always," Ginny conceded. "But you still haven't told me about the kiss!" She wriggled impatiently on the bed.

"Alright, alright!" Hermione said with a laugh. She continued her story all the way up until she'd retreated into Gryffindor Tower for the night. When she finished, Ginny flopped forward and sighed audibly.

"Hermione, that's soooo romantic!" she said. "I can't believe you waited this long to tell me!"

"I guess I didn't have an occasion to?" Hermione replied hesitantly.

"You needed an occasion to tell your best friend about your first kiss?" Ginny repeated incredulously. "You needed an occasion to tell us that you two are _finally_ together?" She paused. "You are, aren't you?"

"I mean, we haven't really discussed it outwardly, but yes, I suppose we are," Hermione said, blushing again. Ginny smiled.

"Like I said, it's about damn time."

"What about you, Gin? How was your Yule Ball?"

"I mean, I hate to say it, since yours was so awful, but I had a great time," Ginny admitted. "Draco was a perfect gentleman, and I had loads of fun. After what you told me, though, I'm really glad I sent him after you."

"I proved I could handle them, didn't I?" Hermione said haughtily, her nose in the air.

"I was more thinking about what happened afterwards," Ginny replied, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Gin, you're incorrigible!" Hermione laughed as she whacked her with a pillow. Ginny smirked.

"I know, but you love me for it. Any chance you've got any more of that cocoa?"

"I do, actually," Hermione said, reaching over to pour her a mug. Ginny accepted the beverage and took a long drink of the thick liquid.

"Mmmm, delicious. Now, we've solved one problem, the one where you _hadn't told me_ about the perfect fairy-tale ending to your evening." She paused and mock glared at Hermione, who couldn't help but giggle. "But we still have one other – what are we going to do about Skeeter?"

"Make her pay, of course," Hermione said immediately, her eyes darkening as her giggle morphed into a glare. "She's definitely not supposed to be on the grounds, I heard a couple of professors talking about how she was banned after the first task. Somehow, she found a way around that last weekend, and I'm going to figure out how she did it. She wrote herself how foolish it would be to mess with Hermione Granger, and I'm going to show her just how right she was." Ginny smirked again and raised her mug.

"Cheers."

* * *

Harry was trying his best not to show it, but he was very nervous about the golden egg, with which he'd made no progress at all. The egg itself had hinges on one side and opened easily, but when it did, all he heard was an indecipherable high-pitched wailing. Nobody could make heads or tails of the sound – it didn't sound like any creature they'd heard before, nor were the noises in any discernible sort of language, and Harry was getting worried. If he couldn't even solve the clue to the second task, how on earth was he supposed to prepare for it?

He'd had decidedly less fun after Christmas than before it – in addition to his homework and the golden egg clue, he'd had to return home for a few days in order to fit in his annual visit to the Dursleys' house. Draco had gone with him, as usual, but his brother's company did nothing to increase his enthusiasm towards the visit, especially not after he'd blown up Marge the year before. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia had arranged it so that her husband and son were out on the day of the visit – Harry suspected she'd done this on purpose, and he was grateful for it. Petunia, at least, was his blood relative and could therefore understand the burst of accidental magic for what it was, no matter how much she disapproved of it – Vernon, however, had no such connection or understanding, and Harry didn't doubt that the man very much wanted to strangle him after what he'd done.

Once Harry and Draco had returned to Hogwarts, their group spent almost the entire rest of their holidays in the Room of Requirement. Nobody was really sure how it happened, but everyone in their group very quickly found out about Draco and Hermione's relationship, and they made sure to give the couple both congratulations for getting together and grief for taking so long to do so. The rest of their time was dedicated to essays, star charts, and the dreaded egg clue.

All too soon, classes started up again, and Harry and his friends bundled themselves up in winter cloaks and scarves to trudge through the deep snow to Hagrid's hut and the Herbology greenhouses. The _Witch Weekly_ article had spread through the school like wildfire, and Harry, Hermione, and Draco soon found themselves bombarded with awkward questions and intense stares wherever they went. The death glares that Krum gave Draco whenever they passed only helped fuel the rumors, and it wasn't long before quite a few people were wondering if Hermione _had_ used a love potion on at least one of the boys. Draco and Hermione neither confirmed nor denied the rumors – when their friends asked why they were putting up with it, Hermione replied, "If we say anything, it'll only give them more to talk about. If we ignore them, they'll eventually get tired of it and leave us alone."

The biggest change of the term so far, however, had nothing to do with _Witch Weekly_ at all. After Christmas, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had largely abandoned the seats they'd chosen in October in order to sit with dates or other friends they'd met at the ball, and the four house tables were now a mix of black, red, and blue as students from all three schools mingled freely. Peter, who was quite taken with Alicia Spinnet, had joined the Gryffindors for almost every meal since the ball, and he surprised Harry and Hermione by asking for a word after dinner one evening shortly after the new term began.

"Is there someplace we could talk privately?" he asked in his lightly accented English. "And could your Slytherin friend please join us?" Harry noted that there was an empty classroom just across the entrance hall, and Hermione hurried to fetch Draco. The trio followed Peter into the classroom, and the Durmstrang closed the door before facing them.

"What's this about?" Harry asked warily. Aside from their short conversation after the Weighing of the Wands ceremony, he'd hardly spoken to Peter before.

"I wanted to apologize," Peter replied. Harry looked taken aback.

"For what?"

"Viktor Krum," Peter replied. When the three Hogwarts students merely looked confused, he elaborated, "I do not know exactly what happened at the Yule Ball, Miss Granger, but I do know why Krum invited you, and I am very sorry for that."

"I…it's not your fault," Hermione stammered.

"Perhaps not, but regardless, that is no way to treat a woman," Peter said. "I heard him talking about it with a few of our classmates a few hours before the ball, and I was disgusted. I had had my suspicions earlier, when I heard whom he intended to ask, but I did not know for sure until that night. Krum has always thought himself above the rest of us thanks to his talent on the Quidditch pitch, but that was low, even for him. If I had not known you already belonged to someone else, I would have asked you myself, Miss Granger, before he had the chance."

"Erm…well, Draco and I weren't together then," Hermione murmured, her cheeks reddening. "And please, call me Hermione."

"Hermione, then." Peter paused and cocked his head. "You were not together? I was so sure that you were. You just seemed so…natural around each other. I had never seen the likes of it before."

"We grew up together, all three of us," Hermione explained. "The…connection sort of grew from there, I suppose."

"Why are you telling us all of this?" Draco interrupted, still thoroughly confused.

"Perhaps we should sit?" Peter suggested in reply. He withdrew his wand and Conjured a sofa for the trio and an armchair for himself. Once they'd all sat down, he said, "You must understand that Durmstrang is nothing like Hogwarts – the importance of blood purity is such that Muggle-born students are not even admitted. However, just like your own classmates, the students of Durmstrang vary greatly in personal opinion. Many believe in blood supremacy, like your Slytherins, but there are a good number who do not."

"And yourself?" Harry inquired.

"The latter," Peter replied. "I am not sure why, but I trust you and feel inclined to tell you my story. Perhaps you have noticed that my classmates are predominantly male?"

Harry, Draco, and Hermione nodded. Of the nearly twenty students who'd come to Hogwarts from Durmstrang, only three were female.

"That ratio applies to the whole school, not just our delegation," Peter said. "In many of the circles from which Durmstrang families come, it is customary to send only the sons to school while teaching the daughters at home. Those girls who do actually come to Durmstrang tend to do so due to exceptional magical ability – Lea, Mirjam, and Clara, the three who are currently here at Hogwarts, are very talented and powerful. In the case of my family, this custom may have actually kept us safe."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"My sister has no magic," Peter replied. "My parents were both educated elsewhere and therefore knew nothing of Durmstrang's history before I enrolled there. Transferring without a valid reason is very difficult, and so I stayed. It has been very difficult at times, but those customs have allowed me to tell the truth about having a sister without compromising her safety. There have been too many cases when Squibs have died of unknown causes."

"That's…horrible," Hermione finally said.

"But not uncommon, from what I understand," Peter replied. "Visiting Hogwarts has been quite the learning experience, as your classmates have shown us that there is more to the Wizarding world than those prejudices. I am hopeful that seeing such open-mindedness in spite of the history here will give my classmates a better understanding of things."

"We have our fair share of blood supremacists too," Draco pointed out. "I live with three of them, unfortunately."

"I know," Peter acknowledged, "but the difference is that you Hogwarts students are not afraid to speak your minds. It has not yet become dangerous to do so here, and I do not think you realize how lucky you are in that respect. It is very difficult to learn who your allies are when you cannot freely express your views without fear of being hexed, or worse."

"What's different about Durmstrang that makes it so dangerous to speak out?" Hermione asked.

"There is a much higher percentage of families with Dark ties at Durmstrang – our headmaster himself bears the Mark," Peter replied. Draco clenched his teeth and let out a hiss of air.

"Karkaroff is a Death Eater?" he said sharply. "How do you know?" Peter shrugged.

"He does not hide the Mark at Durmstrang like he does here," he replied. "We do wear long robes and furs, but I have seen it on occasion. There is no mistaking the symbol – a skull and snake?"

"Yeah, that's the Dark Mark," Harry confirmed.

"You seemed…upset at that news," Peter remarked, turning to Draco.

"My birth father is a Death Eater, as is my aunt," Draco said shortly. "My family was destroyed, my mother killed because of their choices. I harbor no good feelings towards the Dark side."

"I understand. As I said, our headmaster bears the Mark, though I am not sure how strongly he feels about their cause, and although I do not know of any Marked students, many come from families with parents or other relatives in the ranks. A number of students also have relatives who were contemporaries of Gellert Grindelwald – are you familiar with the name?"

"A little," Hermione said. "We haven't learned too much about him, but I do know he terrorized Germany for years before Dumbledore finally defeated him in a duel."

"He did. Grindelwald, who attended Durmstrang, also believed in Wizarding supremacy – the Death Eaters are taking his work to the next level, of course, but the ideas are similar. What it comes down to is that there is a much stronger Dark influence at Durmstrang. We even study the Dark Arts in school – not just the defense like you do, but the Dark Arts themselves. I am not exceptionally proud of the fact, but I know a fair number of absolutely disgusting curses that could easily incapacitate or even kill a man. Can you see why my sister – and my beliefs – must stay hidden?" They nodded.

"Thank you for sharing your story with us, Peter," Hermione said softly. "It couldn't have been easy to open up to three near-strangers – although I'm still not entirely sure why you did."

"I said it before – I do not know why, but I trust Mr. Potter, and I can see clearly that he trusts the both of you with his life," Peter replied. "If those of us who believe in the good are to make alliances, we can never start too early."

"I can agree with that," Harry concurred, "although I'd prefer to call it a friendship, I think. And like Hermione said, no need for the formalities – call me Harry." He looked expectantly at Peter, who looked surprised but grinned.

"A friendship, then." He offered his hand to Harry, and they shook.

* * *

**A/N: Wow - I think I need to celebrate my birthday (or write a good Dramione chapter) more often - thank you so much for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad you all enjoyed it so much. And to the reviewer who pointed out that 26 is twice 13...you might just be my new favorite person.**

**This chapter gives us a little more insight into Peter's character - I hope you liked it, it took me a bit to get it where I wanted it. In case you're curious, Peter is based on my Swiss friend Stefan, who does indeed speak English very formally sometimes. He's wonderful.**

**Thank you, again, for all the reviews, as well as the follows, faves, &amp; for reading! You guys are the best, all of you.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! Re: tomorrow, Happy Thanksgiving to all those celebrating, &amp; to everyone else, Happy Thursday! :)**


	15. The Dueling Club, Take Two

Under normal circumstances, January always seemed to drag – the days were short, the weather was miserable, and there was nothing of note to break up the monotony of the month's thirty-one days and the post-holiday drag that accompanied them. This year, however, had been anything but normal so far, and Harry was alarmed at how quickly those thirty-one days were slipping by. In reality, it had only been a week since their talk with Peter, but it felt like much longer, and the second task seemed terrifyingly close. He felt a thousand times more nervous than he did before the first task – sure, in the first task, he'd been made to face a bloody _dragon_, but at least he'd known what was coming. Now, though, he had absolutely no clue what to expect, a fact that had already twisted his stomach into knots on more than one occasion.

Harry wasn't usually nearly so gung-ho as Hermione about academics, though he did like to read and learn; lately, though, he found himself throwing his all into his schoolwork, his enthusiasm rivaling that of his best friend. The work, he found, helped to keep him focused and take his mind off everything that was bothering him – the unsolved egg clue, the obnoxious whispers still speculating about his non-existent romantic connection to Hermione, and the lack of Quidditch. He hadn't realized just how much he missed the sport until his brief flight during the first task – that swooping, soaring sensation in his stomach and the wind whipping through his clothes and hair, accompanied with the sheer _freedom_ that only flying could provide, had come back for a fleeting moment, and the thought that he'd normally be spending his January evenings training hard for an upcoming match hurt more than he'd expected. He and Draco rounded up a few of their friends and passed a Saturday afternoon on the pitch tossing around a Quaffle, but it just wasn't the same.

In spite of his downtrodden mood, Harry did have something to look forward to – after their discussion with Peter, the Durmstrang boy had offered to teach Harry some of what he knew. They stayed away from the nastier curses, of course, but Peter still had quite a bit to offer, and Harry soon found himself working hard to master a number of useful spells. Harry, of course, asked if his friends might join them, and Peter agreed – he was a bit hesitant at first when Ginny showed up, uncertain how much he'd be able to teach a mere third-year, but the redhead proved her worth with a scarily impressive Bat-Bogey Hex that took them a full ten minutes to counteract. Even Harry, Draco, and Hermione were stunned speechless by the power of her spell, to which Ginny merely remarked, "I have six older brothers. Need I explain further?"

Due to their larger group – Draco had invited Tracey and Blaise to join as well – they moved their teaching sessions to the Room of Requirement, which they had take the form of the trio's training ground. Peter convinced Fleur and Cedric to work with them as well – Bastien refused the invitation, and Viktor was out of the question – and so the group spent many hours after classes perfecting a veritable arsenal of charms, hexes, and jinxes.

"Again!" Draco shouted as he shattered Peter's Shield Charm with a well-aimed jinx. Peter barely allowed the Slytherin time to push his sweat-soaked hair from his eyes before he raised his wand and sent forth another stream of curses. To their right, Fleur, Ginny, and Hermione were locked in a fierce three-way duel, colored lights flashing in all directions, and to their left, Blaise and Tracey battled Harry and Cedric.

_"Stupefy!"_ There was a loud _thump_ as a body hit the floor, followed by an exclamation of, "Blaise, not _again!"_

"You can't keep doing that, mate," Harry muttered as Cedric performed the counter-curse.

"Doing what?" Blaise asked, blinking rapidly as he gradually reoriented himself to his surroundings.

"Protecting Tracey like that," Harry replied. The Stunner he'd shot toward the Slytherins had been meant for the caramel-haired girl, but Blaise, as he'd done the past ten times something like this had happened, had leapt in front of the red jet and taken the spell himself. While the action was chivalrous and downright Gryffindor, the implications if he were to keep doing so could prove disastrous.

"Dammit," Blaise muttered as he sat up. "I can't help it, alright?" The rest of the room's occupants had stopped dueling to listen and were fully focused on the conversation.

"Your instinct to protect is an admirable one, do not doubt that," Peter began. "But you are actually doing more harm than good by going about it that way."

"How so?"

"Think of it this way – Harry hit you with a Stunning Spell, but what would happen if he had used something worse? Something to cause serious harm, or even an Unforgivable Curse? You would be either out cold, in terrible pain, or dead, and your enemy would be aware of a serious weakness – in this case, your relationship with each other – and be able to exploit it. Tracey, who would still be a part of the fight, would be in even more danger with that knowledge out in the open, as well as alone in her fight instead of with help. It is so difficult to hold yourself back where loved ones are concerned, but it is far better for you to arm yourselves with all the knowledge you can and protect each other that way."

"Peter ees right," Fleur said. "Eet ees all well and good to want to protect 'er, _oui,_ but she must be able to defend 'erself also."

"It's just so hard," Blaise said quietly, sounding frustrated. He turned to look at Draco. "How do you do it, Drake?"

"How do I do what?" his friend inquired.

"How do you do it so easily, watch Hermione take all those hexes without batting an eye?"

"Well, firstly, I do it because Lotte's the top of our class for a reason – she can most definitely hold her own in a duel," Draco began. "Secondly, I know she'd hex me to smithereens if I even suggested that she couldn't properly defend herself on her own."

"Darn right I would," Hermione interjected with a snort. When Draco looked back at her, she raised her eyebrows pointedly and added, "You know it's true."

"I do," Draco chuckled. "And third, I already know what you still need to learn, Blaise – if we all learn to fight for ourselves, we'll be that much more useful to each other in a real duel. Wouldn't you feel more comfortable knowing Tracey has your back as solidly as you have hers?"

"Yeah, I would," Blaise admitted. He stood up then and opened his arms to Tracey. "Can you forgive me, love?"

"For such noble intentions, I suppose I can," she replied with a laugh. She accepted Blaise's embrace and he dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Although I would like to be able to participate more fully, I do agree with them there."

"I'll try to be better," Blaise promised.

"It's not easy," Draco cautioned. "I never said it was – you just have to trust that she knows what she's doing."

"You know what's good practice, Blaise?" Hermione asked suddenly, a mischievous gleam in her brown eyes.

"What's that?"

"Dueling each other." Draco barely had time to duck the spell Hermione sent his way, and he leaped forward into the open space before her, a jinx flying from his own wand as he did so. The duel took off at an increasingly intense pace as the two combatants whirled around each other. Inspired by Hermione's restart of their fun, Ginny sent a hex towards Harry, and the room was soon filled with flying lights and the shouts and grunts of the teenagers as spells hit their mark.

They practiced for another half an hour before Cedric finally called a halt and pointed out that dinner was rapidly approaching – if they wanted to clean themselves up so they didn't look like they'd gone through a tornado on their way to the Great Hall, they'd have to leave soon. They scooped up their bags and bid each other farewell as they left the Room of Requirement, the Gryffindors heading towards the corridor to their common room while the rest made for the nearest staircase, but Cedric stopped Harry short.

"Harry, can I talk to you?"

"Sure – what's this about?" Harry asked, motioning for Hermione and Ginny to go on without him when he caught their inquisitive expressions. In response, Cedric paced the required three times in front of the stone wall, the room opening up once more, and ushered him inside.

"Have you had any luck with your egg?" Cedric asked, going straight to the point.

"Erm…no," Harry admitted, deciding it was best to be honest.

"Yours has hinges on the side and opens up, yeah?"

"It does, and it makes the worst sound when I do."

"Like one of Hagrid's Skrewts being run over by the Knight Bus?"

"Something like that," Harry replied, chuckling a little at the comparison. "I'd say more like Moaning Myrtle when she's throwing one of her tantrums, but I guess they're not too far off. Why do you ask?"

"It's just…well, take some time to think about it by yourself," Cedric said. "Send everyone away and…mull things over a bit. You might be surprised at what you find." Just as abruptly as he'd summoned it, he reopened the door and gestured for Harry to go through.

"I owed you one, for the dragon," he continued. "I would've been royally screwed if you hadn't tipped me off."

"You don't owe me anything," Harry argued.

"Yes, I do," Cedric insisted. "Just…think about it, yeah?" Without another word, he turned and strode down the corridor, his long legs leading him back towards his basement common room.

Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, feeling thoroughly confused. 'Take some time to think about it by yourself' – it seemed like a very strange hint. He most certainly hadn't gotten any thinking done until now, so what made Cedric so sure that thinking alone would increase his productivity? Deciding it couldn't hurt – it's not like the egg could do much worse than wailing at him anyway – he resolved to give it a shot after dinner.

Thanks to a Potions assignment he'd nearly forgotten – and it was a good thing he remembered, as Snape would've put him in detention for a month if he hadn't, champion or not – it wasn't until Friday that Harry was finally able to test Cedric's theory. Neville was in the greenhouses with Susan – Harry was thrilled for his friend that they'd stayed together after the ball – and Seamus, Ron, and Dean were engaged in a rousing game of Exploding Snap in the common room. After locking the door to ensure some privacy, Harry removed the golden egg from his trunk and sat cross-legged on his bed, cradling the egg in his lap.

"Here goes nothing," he said to himself. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and before he could change his mind, he ran his thumbnail through the groove bisecting the egg and popped it open.

To his utter shock, the wailing had stopped, and a deep voice had taken its place. In spite of its low timbre, the voice had a faraway quality to it, almost as if the speaker were deep in thought about things far from home. Harry strained his ears – the voice was also quite soft – and listened carefully:

_Deep within the darkest wood  
__Our secrets stay just where they should  
__But for one night and one alone  
__Something else shall call us home  
__Sixty circles of the clock  
__You'll have to end their ghostly walk  
__The stars align to guide your way  
__But what we took I fear won't stay  
__Be swift and leave the darkest wood  
__'ere what's most loved is gone for good_

Harry sat speechless for a long moment after the egg's message finished. The message itself began again, repeating on an endless loop, and Harry snapped out of his daze long enough to grab a quill and some parchment. He listened intently to the message three more times, checking and double-checking to make sure he'd written it down properly, before closing the egg with a snap and replacing it carefully in his trunk. Once that was done, he stared at the words themselves. It sounded like this task was to retrieve something that had been stolen – something that would be lost if he didn't succeed within 'sixty circles of the clock'. He still wasn't one hundred percent positive as to the task's location, but he had a suspicion based on several hints from both the poem and the speaker, and he didn't like it one bit. The place was off-limits for a reason.

Deciding he couldn't afford to wait any longer – the task was barely a month away – Harry tucked the parchment carefully into his pocket and headed downstairs. The person he sought wasn't there, and he immediately sent off a charmed parchment message:

_Where are you?_

Her reply – _usual corner of the library_ – came quickly, and Harry wasted no time in leaving the common room and heading downstairs. Normally, he avoided the library on Friday nights – hell, even _Hermione_ avoided the library most Friday nights – but this couldn't wait. He pushed open the library's double doors and strode towards the back left corner. There was a table situated in a nook back there, and Hermione preferred it for both its private location and its spectacular view of the lake and the surrounding grounds through the nearby window.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione greeted him as he came into view. She was bent over a large, dusty old book, but she marked her page and slid the tome aside to make room for her friend. "What's up?"

"I figured out the clue," Harry replied. He collapsed into the closest empty chair and relaxed a bit – as much as he preferred to work outside the library, the plush chairs really were very comfortable. Hermione's eyes widened.

"You did?" she gasped, careful to keep her voice low lest Madam Pince be lurking nearby. "How did you do it? I thought you were completely stuck!"

"I was," Harry agreed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "I'd been going in circles for ages…but you remember when Cedric pulled me aside after our dueling session earlier this week?"

"Yes – I'd been meaning to ask you what he said and completely forgot."

"Well, he said he owed me one for telling him about the dragons," Harry said. "I told him he really didn't, but he insisted – Hufflepuff to the core, that one," he chuckled. "Anyway, he said I should try listening to the egg on my own. It seemed a tad ridiculous at the time, given how unresponsive the egg was when anyone else was around – I was certain I'd have to do something special to it, like cast a spell on it or immerse it in water or something, but I figured it couldn't hurt to give his hint a go. I locked myself in the dormitory just now, and it actually worked."

"Interesting…maybe they added that to ensure the champions didn't have easy help this time around?" Hermione mused. "What happened?" Harry extracted the parchment from his jeans pocket and slid it across the table. Hermione was quiet for a moment as she read it, occasionally muttering parts of the verse aloud.

"It sounds like you're looking for something that's been stolen," she finally said.

"Yeah – and we have an hour to do it before it disappears," Harry added.

"Well…my guess would be that's just a caution to make sure you stick to the time limit," Hermione said. "I'm more concerned about _where_ these things will be taken – it almost sounds like…"

"The Forbidden Forest?" Harry finished. "I know. There's the mentions of the 'darkest wood', and although I've never met one, I think the voice in the egg belonged to a centaur."

"How do you figure that?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely curious.

"Well, there's the line about the stars, for one – I remember when we did that homework about centaurs in our first year, they're really into reading the sky – and we have a herd of them living in the forest, don't we? And the voice just sounded…I dunno, ethereal, almost. Like it was concerned more with the faraway, if that makes any sense."

"Your wording doesn't, but I get what you mean," Hermione quipped. Her voice turned serious then as she said, "In that case, you'd better start reading up on what's in that forest and how best to prepare for it – I know there's a section on the forest in _Hogwarts, A History_, if you'd like to borrow it."

"It's as good a place to start as any," Harry agreed. "Thanks." He paused and glanced at the huge book Hermione had been reading. "What are you doing in the library on a Friday night, anyway?"

"Oh – Tracey, Ginny, and I had another dueling session with Fleur before dinner," Hermione said. "She taught us a couple of new curses, and then we got to talking about Beauxbatons and how the war affected France – she couldn't really tell us much about the latter topic, as she's only a few years older than we are and wasn't old enough during the height of the war, but she suggested this book to me. It's actually really interesting, and there's quite a bit about Beauxbatons as well."

"Seems like you three have bonded with Fleur rather well," Harry commented.

"I mean, she can still be intimidating at times – she's got that proud, unapproachable side perfected, and she really did earn her place as a champion in terms of her magical abilities – but underneath all that, she's not all that different from us, not really. She believes in a lot of the same things we do, and she's got a fierce sense of loyalty that I'd definitely want on my side."

"I'm not saying anything against her," Harry said with a chuckle. "I just agree with you that she's intimidating."

"Fair enough. Shall we head back to the common room? Even I can only take so much of the library on a Friday night," Hermione said, smirking slightly. She returned her book to its proper spot on the shelf – heaven forbid Madam Pince ever find one of her precious books even an inch out of place – and the two headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, chatting lightly about plans for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Harry hadn't initially planned on going, but now that he'd unlocked the clue in the egg, he felt like a huge weight was gone from his shoulders and he could afford the afternoon of fun.

"Firebird," Hermione told the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open, and the two climbed inside. Hermione told Harry to find a seat while she went upstairs to get her copy of _Hogwarts, A History._

It took Hermione far longer than it should have to come back down – when she finally did, she absentmindedly handed the book to Harry, but the look on her face plainly stated that her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Erm…earth to Hermione?" Harry asked. "What's up?"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I was just thinking, and…can I talk to you alone for a second?" They moved into an unoccupied corner of the common room, and Hermione looked up at her friend, biting her lower lip like she always did when she was deep in thought.

"Maya, what's up?" Harry repeated.

"I was just thinking about the Hufflepuff ring – what if it's supposed to go to Cedric?"

* * *

**A/N: Happy birthday to me! I'm officially double 13 now. :D**

**In honor of my birthday, my day off from work, etc, I give you chapter 15. We've spent some time with Fleur &amp; Peter, learned a little about the second task, &amp; the rings have made an appearance once more! **

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading! I hope you're all enjoying this series.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	16. The Forbidden Forest

Harry was silent for a long moment following Hermione's question. It seemed so obvious – why hadn't they thought of it before? Hadn't he himself mentioned – more than once – that Cedric was the quintessential Hufflepuff?

"You might be right, Maya," he finally said.

"Why do I sense a 'but' in there?" Hermione replied.

"Well…" Harry paused, his expression suggesting that he wasn't quite sure how to voice his concerns. "It's just…do you really think it'd be fair to Cedric to drop something like that on him while we're in the middle of this tournament? I mean, the prophecy connected with these rings is kind of a huge deal."

"You do have a point," Hermione conceded. "It was a lot for us to take in, and we don't even know if any of us are actually going to _wear_ the rings – that quartet has a lot riding on them. As Draco, Ginny, and the two of us are the only ones besides Dumbledore who already know about the prophecy, I think it's safe to say that we'll have a heavy hand in explaining things to people, and we'll want to be sure that any potential candidates can handle it before we do. Not that Cedric couldn't handle it, of course – the fact that he's a Triwizard champion and faring well so far shows that he's more than capable – but you're right, that doesn't seem fair at all."

"I'll make sure to talk to him as soon as I can once the tournament's over," Harry promised. "After all, he's a seventh-year, so he won't be back at Hogwarts next year."

"I think that works," Hermione agreed. "We definitely need to keep the thought in the back of our minds, but for now, our main focus should be getting you through the second task…"

* * *

The remaining weeks leading up to the second task were spent reading everything they could find pertaining to the Forbidden Forest, and when they'd exhausted those resources, they moved on to books on the various creatures they knew for certain lived in said forest. Harry's nerves returned as he surveyed their growing list of creatures – unicorns were no threat unless provoked, he'd done extensive reading on centaurs, and even the wolves weren't all that dangerous, but he also had a suspicion that the forest had become the latest home of many of Hagrid's critters, which included a fifty-year-old Acromantula and a gigantic three-headed dog. Harry fervently wished there was a way he could avoid those particular beasts, but the Marauder's Map only depicted the outer edges of the forest and therefore wasn't going to be any help at all. Resigning himself to the fact that this task had the potential to be as dangerous as the first, Harry gathered together a flashlight with extra batteries – he wanted his wand free for things other than _Lumos_ – a small flute in the event that he met Fluffy, and a multipurpose pocket knife he borrowed from Neville, and he stored everything safely in the pockets of his warmest cloak. Hermione then cast a special heating charm on the cloak that would add an extra layer of warmth against the late February chill. Finally, all that was left to do was wait.

The night before the second task, Hermione and Draco received identical summons to Dumbledore's office. The missives were incredibly vague, and Harry was very worried indeed when the clock struck an hour after their scheduled meeting time and they hadn't yet returned. He still hadn't seen hide or hair of Hermione by the time he went up to bed, and neither of them answered their charmed parchments. He slept fitfully that night, his anxieties about the second task exacerbated by Hermione and Draco's mysterious absence, and he woke early the next morning feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. Deciding that it was no use to try and go back to sleep, Harry got out of bed and dressed quickly, taking care to don as many layers as he could, and he triple-checked that he had everything he needed before heading down to the common room. Ginny was also awake, a thick parka with a fuzzy hood and a knee-length hem enveloping her petite frame.

"Morning, Harry," she greeted him. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"So you haven't seen her either?" Harry replied, his brows furrowing in worry. "I haven't seen her since last night when she left for Dumbledore's office." He quickly explained the messages his friends had received.

"Hmm," Ginny mused. "Well, if they were with Dumbledore, it couldn't be _that_ bad, could it? Do you know if Draco's been back yet?"

"He wasn't answering his charmed parchment last night," Harry said. "We could always ask Blaise – he'd know better than we would, since they're roommates." The two Gryffindors headed down to breakfast, and they were disappointed when Blaise immediately stopped by their table to ask if they'd seen Draco. Ginny then spent the rest of the meal attempting to distract Harry by making sure he ate enough to make it through the task, all the while masking her own worry. Hermione and Draco wouldn't risk missing the second task unless something was horribly wrong…

All too soon, Dumbledore stood and asked the champions to please make their way to their tent, which he said they would find next to Hagrid's hut. The spectators, he said, were welcome to fill the nearby stands at any time, and the task would start promptly at ten o'clock. Harry gulped down the last few swallows of his juice and accepted a good-luck hug from Ginny before following Cedric and Peter from the Great Hall.

It was unusually cold that morning – the snow crunched loudly underfoot, and puffs of air floated upwards whenever anyone exhaled. The champions were relieved to reach their tent, which sported a number of heating charms, and they immediately set to warming up while they waited for further instructions. After checking yet again that he had everything, Harry fell to pacing, which both kept the blood flowing and helped him to focus on the upcoming task.

At a quarter to ten, Ludo Bagman made an appearance, his usual eager expression plastered across his face.

"Good morning, champions!" he said jovially. "I trust you have all deciphered your eggs' clues and understand the objective of today's task. We'll be starting in just a few minutes, so if you could all please follow me?"

A multicolored ribbon stretched across the closest entrance to the Forbidden Forest, and Bagman directed the champions to stand in front of it.

"You'll all be starting from here," he said, "although we recognize that it's not practical to expect you all to end here, given the forest's size. There is a special ward in place along the forest's edge that works like a timer – as soon as you cross the barrier, your time will begin, and your clock will stop once you exit the forest, which will give the judges an accurate representation of the time it took you to complete the task even if you ultimately emerge where they can't see you." The champions nodded their understanding, and Bagman bade them good luck before heading off to the commentator's box situated at the top of the spectators' stands. How he was going to commentate on anything, Harry didn't know, but he decided that particular mystery wasn't worth solving at the moment and moved to stand between Cedric and Fleur. At precisely ten o'clock, a long, low horn sounded, and the six champions broke through the ceremonial ribbon and took their first steps into the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't long before they reached a multi-forked split in the path, and after hastily muttered wishes for good luck, the champions split up.

Save for a stubborn bramble bush soon tamed by his knife, the first ten minutes of Harry's trek were relatively uneventful. The forest was quiet, and the thick canopy overhead meant that the snow underfoot wasn't nearly as deep as that coating the lawns. It was, however, quite dark, and it wasn't long before Harry pulled his flashlight from his pocket. The beam of light wasn't exceptionally thick or strong, but it was comforting in the stillness of the wood, and Harry felt marginally braver as he trudged onward. Now if he only had an idea of what he was supposed to be looking for…

A few minutes later, the snapping of twigs nearby made Harry pause. He raised his wand and cautiously stepped forward, wisely remembering his experience in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup and not calling out. More branches broke – whatever it was, it was getting closer – and all too soon, the mystery sound was just behind the closest tree. Harry crept closer to the tree, giving it as wide a berth as he could while slowly circling it until he found…

_"Buckbeak?"_

The hippogriff looked up at the sound of his name and chirped, his large orange eyes focused on Harry, who remembered the protocol and bowed. Buckbeak returned the gesture, and Harry rushed forward, eagerly stroking the hippogriff's glossy feathers while the creature chirruped in pleasure.

"I didn't know you were still in here," Harry murmured. "Somehow, I don't think you're what I'm supposed to find, but it's good to see that you're alright." Buckbeak immediately began to follow Harry when he made to continue deeper into the wood, and Harry merely shrugged. Buckbeak wouldn't hold him up any, and he certainly appreciated the company.

Harry had just checked his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time – twenty-five minutes of his allotted hour had passed – when a shrill scream cut through the forest like a knife. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and Buckbeak growled softly. Harry didn't know what had happened, but it sounded like one of the other champions was in trouble. Not thirty seconds later, he nearly screamed himself as something came barreling into his clearing – once he'd calmed his erratic breathing, he realized that the newcomer was a centaur, his palomino body glowing softly in the dim light. Platinum hair brushed a strong jaw, and bright blue eyes peered intently out of an intelligent face.

"Forgive me," the centaur said, his voice soft. "I did not mean to startle you. My name is Firenze." He paused and frowned. "What is a young one doing so deep in the forest? It is not safe for you here."

"It's the second task of the Triwizard Tournament," Harry explained, his voice slightly shaky. The centaur's name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place why.

"Ah, yes," Firenze replied, understanding shining in his eyes. "That is indeed today, isn't it. You are one of the champions?"

"Yes. My name is Harry Potter." Firenze immediately frowned again.

"Forgive me, Mr. Potter – if I had known it was you from the start, I would have acted immediately," he said. "I know what you seek and where to find it – follow me."

"Erm…wouldn't that be cheating?" Harry asked. "I mean…aren't I supposed to find…whatever it is I'm looking for by myself?"

"No matter," the centaur replied, his hair brushing his chin as he shook his head. "It is much more important that we get you out of here as quickly as we can. My fellow centaurs might not put much stock in the goings-on of humankind, but I cannot in good faith ignore the signs. The skies tell of dark times ahead, dark times indeed, and you especially are not safe here." Harry was just a bit grateful that he was entirely focused on keeping up with Firenze's brisk pace, as he wasn't exactly sure what to say to his new companion's ominous declaration.

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves on the edge of a small clearing. A low rumbling sound was coming from somewhere close by, and the lack of any light suggested that they were very deep in the forest.

"The one you seek is there," Firenze said, pointing towards the clearing. "Be careful, and be quick." Harry moved slowly towards the clearing, the rumbling sound becoming more pronounced as he neared. Buckbeak tried to follow, but Firenze held him back with a firm hand and a comforting tone – it seemed that the hippogriff and the centaur knew each other fairly well.

The source of the rumbling became clear the instant Harry stepped into the clearing. A three-headed monster of a dog stood at attention, low growls issuing from its throats as thick ropes of saliva hung from its many teeth. Three noses picked up Harry's scent almost immediately, and the growls became more pronounced. Harry wasted no time in pulling the little flute from his pocket, and though the notes he played could hardly be called a tune, they did the trick – the dog's growls were swallowed by thick yawns, and the beast slumped forwards, its heads resting on its massive front paws as it began to snore.

_"Good old Fluffy,"_ Harry thought. _"Now, what am I looking for?"_

The answer was almost immediately apparent, and Harry nearly dropped the flute in shock. Just behind the sleeping dog were two people – Draco, and a little girl who couldn't have been more than eight years old, both of whom were just as soundly asleep as Fluffy. Though Harry had never seen her before, her sheet of silvery-blonde hair made it obvious that she was somehow related to Fleur. The mystery of Draco's whereabouts had been solved, and Harry wondered if Hermione was somewhere in the forest as well.

For a moment, Harry wasn't sure how he was supposed to bring Draco with him while keeping Fluffy asleep, but then Firenze stepped forward and began to play a pipe of his own. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Harry reached up and touched his brother's sleeve. As soon as he made contact, Draco awoke, looking clearly disoriented as he took in his surroundings.

"Oh – hey, Harry," he finally said.

"You had me worried sick since last night and all you can say is 'hey'?" Harry said as he gaped at his brother.

"We can worry about semantics later," Draco said dismissively. "Can we get out of here first? This place is cold and creepy."

"What do we do about her?" Harry wondered, gesturing to the little girl. Firenze heard him and signaled for Harry to bring her along as well. The girl's blue eyes were wide and fearful when she awoke, but the sight of the slumbering Fluffy convinced her to leave the clearing without any further coaxing. Fluffy awoke as soon as Firenze stopped playing, but they were well out of sight by then, and the dog didn't pursue them.

"D'you know what her name is?" Harry asked Draco quietly. The little girl hadn't spoken a word, and she was riding on Buckbeak's back, her fingers tightly woven into his neck feathers as she clung to him.

"I know she's Fleur's little sister," Draco replied. "I don't remember her name, though, and I don't know how to ask her – from our meeting with the Heads of School last night, I gathered that she only speaks French."

_"Je m'appelle Gabrielle,"_ the girl said suddenly. Her voice was high and sweet, like a bell.

"Pardon?" Harry asked. The girl must've understood, because she repeated her statement.

"Your name is Gabrielle?" Draco said. She nodded, and the boys introduced themselves. Gabrielle said something else in French, and although the boys shrugged, regretfully telling her without words that they didn't understand, she merely smiled sweetly, seemingly more at ease now that she at least knew their names.

It was nearing twenty minutes past eleven when the trees began to clear and Harry spotted the edge of the forest. He had no idea where they were in relation to Hagrid's hut, but he didn't really care – all that mattered was getting out of this miserable forest and getting warmed up.

"We must leave you now," Firenze said, reaching up to help Gabrielle slide off Buckbeak's back. "It was good to see you again, Mr. Black – please give Miss Granger my kindest regards."

"I will," Draco promised, and he and Firenze exchanged bows before the centaur turned to Harry.

"Young Mr. Potter, I wish I could say that the stars are often wrong, but unfortunately, that is not the case. Stay safe."

"Thank you, Firenze," Harry said, copying his brother's gesture and bowing to the centaur. He'd finally realized why Firenze's name sounded familiar – this was the centaur Hermione and Draco had met at the end of the previous year when they'd gone back in time. "Your help is much appreciated, really." Firenze bowed in kind, and he allowed the three children to say goodbye to Buckbeak before he led the hippogriff back the way they had come. The trio set off towards the tree line, but Draco suddenly stopped them just before they reached it.

"We can't leave the forest without you," he explained. "It's part of the charm."

"Will she even be able to leave?" Harry asked, nodding towards Gabrielle.

"I dunno," Draco said doubtfully. "I guess we won't know until we try." He and Harry clasped hands, and Harry reached out with his other hand to take Gabrielle's.

"Here goes nothing," he said, and he stepped out onto the lawn. To his relief, both of his charges followed without incident, and they found themselves just around the bend from Hagrid's hut. They could hear shouting up ahead – it sounded like two girls, and they hurried towards the noise.

_"Oh, mon Dieu – Gabrielle!"_ The cry came from Fleur, who was fighting with all her might to break free of her headmistress's hold and return to the forest. Her robes were ripped in several places and her beautiful face was scratched and bleeding, but her mind seemed only to be on her sister. Finally wrenching herself free, she tore across the lawn as fast as she could and dropped to her knees, embracing Gabrielle as they chattered away in rapid French. Fleur kept one arm around Gabrielle as she stood to face Harry and Draco.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly. "I was so worried – I was attacked by somesing in ze forest and zey would not let me continue. You saved my seester." She bent forward and kissed both boys on the cheek, their faces immediately turning crimson.

"Zere ees someone 'oo needs you over zair," Fleur said, pointing towards the champions' tent. The shouting they'd heard earlier was coming from that direction, and now that Fleur was no longer screaming as well, the protester sounded familiar.

"I thought I told you _not to touch me!"_ the voice shrieked. As soon as the boys rounded the corner of the champions' tent, they saw Hermione facing Krum, her wand leveled at his chest and her expression livid.

"How dare you even _think_ that it was acceptable to choose me for something like this?" Hermione spat. "I am _not_ yours to mess around with, _Krum."_

"Lotte?" Draco said. Hermione turned at the familiar voice and immediately embraced both of the boys. Krum practically growled when Draco tightened his hold on Hermione's waist.

"I thought we made this _quite_ clear two months ago," Draco said menacingly. "If you mess with her, you mess with all of us, and you _will_ regret it."

"I do not fear you, you stupid child," Krum scoffed. "It is you who should be frightened." When Draco and Harry merely raised their wands to match Hermione's, Krum rolled his eyes and stalked off.

"He's so disgustingly full of himself," Harry muttered as they watched Krum leave. "Are you alright, Maya?"

"Other than having to spend the last twenty-odd minutes in his company, yes," Hermione replied, glaring at Krum's retreating back. "Madam Pomfrey's waiting in the champions' tent with blankets and cocoa – you two should probably head over there."

* * *

Just over an hour later, the group was back in the Room of Requirement once more. Krum, unfortunately, had finished first and had therefore placed highest in the second task, but Harry had still done very well, and he'd been awarded five bonus points for his determination not to leave Gabrielle behind – when the judges had questioned him, he'd said, "She was alone and terrified – I wasn't about to leave her there by herself."

"I hope the third task is something we can actually watch," Ginny commented. "Or at least something Bagman can commentate on while it's happening." As it turned out, the spectators hadn't heard anything at all until the task was over, at which time Bagman summarized what little anyone knew about the champions' experiences for the crowd. Nobody was really all that happy about having sat so long in the cold for essentially nothing but a scoring ceremony.

"Hold your hippogriffs, Gin," Harry groaned. "Let me enjoy the fact that the second task is over before you throw the third one at me!"

"Ah, but I would be slacking if I did that," Ginny replied with a wink. "Don't forget Professor Moody's mantra – constant vigilance!"

Harry was exhausted from his long morning, but he still found the strength to clock his smirking friend over the head with a throw pillow for that one.

* * *

**A/N: Two tasks down, woohoo! Hope you liked my take on it. Also, thank you all for the birthday wishes - it was a good day.**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading! Drop me a line &amp; let me know what you think of the latest bit.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	17. Disguises Unmasked

The atmosphere in the Room of Requirement following the second task contrasted the heavy sense of dread that had lingered there in weeks previous like night and day, the group that frequented the room now in much higher spirits than before. Upon completion of the second task, the champions were told that the third task would take place at the end of June, and this time, they would learn precisely what was coming a month in advance. This knowledge lifted an enormous weight off the champions' shoulders, and the lack of that burden showed on the occasions that the whole group got together for dueling practice.

Today, however, saw only Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ginny in the room – Peter and Cedric were busy with homework, the Beauxbatons students were visiting Hogsmeade, and Blaise and Tracey had gone off in search of some alone time, promising to meet their friends later in the day. The quartet had taken a break from studying so Harry could tell the girls the full story of his second task, which he hadn't yet had time to do.

"I think it's wonderful that you found Buckbeak," Hermione said warmly. "At the very least, I'm sure the company was appreciated…although I thought Firenze said he was going to tell Dumbledore about Buckbeak and get him out of there?" She directed the last bit of her question at Draco, a slight frown marring her features.

"I don't think he really needed to," Draco said in response. "You didn't see how Buckbeak and Firenze were together – they seem to have formed a natural bond. And I know you know how loyal centaurs can be – I think Buckbeak is just as safe with Firenze as he'd be wherever Dumbledore would've hidden him…and probably happier, too." As if to further reassure her, Draco took Hermione's hand in his own and loosely intertwined their fingers, his thumb tracing random patterns on her skin. Hermione visibly relaxed at his touch and offered him a small smile of thanks. Draco was an extremely private person when it came to expressing physical affection, which meant that even the simple act of his taking her hand in front of other people – regardless of the fact that those 'other people' were practically his family – seemed that much more meaningful.

"Sometimes I wish I was in your year," Ginny said wistfully. "I miss out on so much of the fun – I've never even met Buckbeak."

"Well, now that we know where he is, maybe we can fix that," Hermione teased good-naturedly. Ginny stuck out her tongue in response but giggled all the same.

"Speaking of people not in our year…"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'm having second thoughts about waiting 'til the end of the year to talk to Cedric," Harry confessed. At Ginny and Draco's questioning looks, Harry quickly explained Hermione's theory that the dark-haired seventh-year might be a candidate for the rings quartet.

"Makes sense," Draco said once his brother had finished, his fingers still absentmindedly playing with Hermione's. "What was it that Helga Hufflepuff's letter said? The wearers of the rings don't necessarily have to come from each of the four Houses, but they need to embody the characteristics of the House their ring represents."

"And there's no one more 'Hufflepuff' than Cedric Diggory," Harry concluded.

"Just out of curiosity, why are you suddenly so eager to talk to him sooner?" Hermione wondered.

"The final task isn't until the end of June," Harry replied, "so by the time it's done, there's less than a week until the Express takes us all home for the summer, and you know some of that time will be taken up already – I'm assuming there's some sort of ceremony ending the tournament, formally recognizing the winner and all that, and of course there's the leaving feast, and they'll probably do something special with that since we have guests…"

"You do have a point," Hermione conceded. "When do you think we should talk to him?" Harry furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment.

"Have we set a date for our next dueling practice?"

"Next Friday," Ginny said. "So maybe we should just ask him if he can hang back then, and we'll explain it to him?"

"Yeah – we should probably get in touch with Dumbledore, though. At the very least, we might want to show Cedric the actual memory of the prophecy in a Pensieve, and even if we decide not to do that, we'll have to have him try on the ring."

"If he accepts the prophecy, that is."

"I'm pretty sure he will, Drake. After all, he's already faced a fully-grown dragon, plus whatever he ran into in the Forest – after that, a prophecy will seem like child's play."

* * *

The rest of the week passed as uneventfully as a week at Hogwarts could, the snow finally starting to disappear as February made way for March. The fourth-years enjoyed an unusually fun Care of Magical Creatures lesson when Hagrid introduced them to nifflers, fuzzy little animals with a love of all things shiny. He'd buried a large amount of leprechaun gold in the soft overturned earth of his pumpkin patch, and all the students had to do was release their nifflers before the little critters dove eagerly into the dirt in search of the coins. In the end, Ron's niffler collected the most coins, and Hagrid gave him an enormous block of Honeydukes chocolate as a prize, which the delighted redhead shared bits of with his friends on their way to lunch.

The only dampener on the trio's week was an unwanted meeting with Theodore Nott after that same lesson. Harry, Draco, and Hermione had waited with Ron while Hagrid went to fetch his chocolate, and as a result, most of their classmates had already left for lunch by the time they headed back to the castle. When they stepped into the entrance hall, it was to find Nott and Pansy Parkinson snogging enthusiastically against the wall next to the house point hourglasses.

"And that's _exactly_ what I wanted to see right before lunch," Ron said sarcastically. The couple broke apart at his words and sneered at the newcomers.

"Jealous, Weasley?" Nott asked.

"Not in the slightest," Ron replied, still looking revolted at the mere thought of _anyone_ kissing so brazenly in public.

"And what are the rest of you looking at?" Nott continued, his focus moving from Ron to his companions.

"Nothing worth seeing, obviously," Draco replied coolly. He blatantly ignored Nott's furious expression and turned to his friends. "Lunch, anyone? I really don't want to face McGonagall on an empty stomach…"

As soon as they'd made it into the Great Hall, Draco commented, "Well, that was interesting."

"Interesting?" Ron questioned. "How is seeing those two gits snogging interesting?"

"They've upped the stakes. Of course, they're all over each other in the common room, but that's been going on since the Yule Ball-"

"Hang on, what?" Harry interrupted. "You never mentioned that."

"I didn't?" Draco looked confused for a moment, then pulled the group a little aside so that they weren't directly blocking the doors. "So I suppose I forgot to mention that I spent the night of the ball in the Room of Requirement?"

"I think I would've remembered you telling me that," Harry prompted.

"I did go back to my common room, very briefly. But my dormitory was already occupied – by those two." Draco jerked his thumb back in the direction of the entrance hall. Ron blanched.

"Don't tell me you caught them _shagging?"_ he said disbelievingly, looking as if he might be sick. A few people nearby turned their heads at his just-too-loud question, apparently curious to find out who had caught whom.

"Not quite, thank Merlin, but there was a pretty intense snogging session going on, and I certainly wasn't going to stick around for it, so I grabbed a pair of pajamas, stopped by the common room just long enough to warn Blaise not to go up to the room, and left. I can't complain, really – the Room of Requirement supplies fantastic beds." Draco shrugged, then added, "It's just the latest in Parkinson's schemes to make me jealous – all of which, I might add, are failing miserably. Now, as much as I _adore_ standing here talking about those two, I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't want to go to Transfiguration hungry, so let's eat."

* * *

Friday's dueling session was just as satisfying as any other – the friends finished their hour sweaty and exhausted, but happy. Harry had talked to Cedric earlier in the day, inquiring after his plans for the evening, and Cedric had replied that the Hufflepuffs were having a game night in their common room, so he wouldn't be missed if he stayed back to talk to them for a bit.

"So what's all this about?" Cedric asked as he sat himself in an armchair near the fire. The room had shrunk down to the group's usual study room at a mere thought from Harry, and he, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny made themselves comfortable as well.

"Er…how much do you know about prophecies?" Harry began. Cedric frowned in thought.

"Not much, other than the fact that they exist," he said finally. "I've never heard one before, if that's what you're asking."

"That's fine – but we have, and we'd like to share it with you, if you're willing."

"With me? Why?"

"Because we think you might be connected to it," Hermione said softly. Cedric's eyes widened, but he nodded.

"Alright, then," he said. "Let's hear this prophecy." Hermione held out the piece of parchment containing the text of the prophecy, which Cedric accepted and began to read. They'd decided against using the Pensieve, not wanting to overwhelm Cedric – if he accepted the legend, seeing the ring alone was going to be quite a lot.

"I don't understand what this has to do with me," Cedric said when he'd finished reading. "Hell, I don't even understand what this means, at all." He gestured towards the parchment in his hands.

"If it makes you feel any better, we don't understand it all either," Harry said. "We first heard this prophecy at the very end of our second year – the year with the whole Chamber of Secrets thing – and we've only unraveled some of it so far. We do know what the legend refers to, though, and that's what we need to talk to you about."

"It's called the Legend of the Founders' Rings," Hermione continued, "and it refers to a set of four rings created by the founders of Hogwarts. These rings are supposedly enchanted to help protect Hogwarts in her time of need if worn by the right people."

"The right people?"

"The rings must be worn by people who personify the prized traits of each of the four Houses."

"And you think…" Cedric seemed unable to finish his thought.

"Cedric, you're the most Hufflepuff of Hufflepuffs there is – and I mean that as a compliment," Harry added quickly, recalling how easily many of his peers referred to the Badgers in less-than-complimentary terms or otherwise looked down on them.

"Harry's right," Ginny chimed in. "You're hardworking, loyal, trustworthy, and fair. If that doesn't hit every trait Helga Hufflepuff valued most, then my surname isn't Weasley."

"Which it most certainly is," Draco joked. Ginny reached over and ruffled his hair, and he playfully shoved her arm in response.

"I…wow," Cedric finally said. "I'm…honored, that you think I might be part of your quartet. Coz there's no denying it's yours, Harry, with the reference to the 'Chosen One'." He paused. "Are you one of the ring wearers too?"

"We don't know," Harry replied. "We only have one of the rings – Hufflepuff's, coincidentally. We still have to track down the other three." He stopped to clear his throat. "So…"

"I'm not opposed to trying," Cedric said. "It's a lot to take in, yeah, but if Hogwarts is ever in trouble – and from the sound of that prophecy, she will be, and soon – I want to do all I can to defend her. Hogwarts has been my home for the last seven years, and the least I can do is give back to the place that contributed so much towards who I am."

"What did I tell you? Hufflepuff through and through," Harry said, laughing a little.

"I was one of those people who was Sorted almost instantly," Cedric said with a grin.

"What do you think of going to Dumbledore's office, then?" Hermione asked. "The Hufflepuff ring is there, and I'm sure you'd be interested in seeing the letter that goes along with it." Cedric agreed, and the group of teenagers made their way to the headmaster's office. Harry gave the password ('sherbet lemon'), and they rode the winding staircase up to the door with the phoenix knocker.

"Ah, good evening," Dumbledore greeted them as they filed inside. "Please, do sit down. Mr. Diggory, I'm guessing that Mr. Potter and his friends have filled you in?"

"Yes, Sir," Cedric replied, trying hard not to gape at the many splendid things surrounding him. Harry recognized the look well – it was the same one he'd worn the first time he visited Dumbledore's office.

"Could he maybe see the letter, Professor?" Hermione asked. "I think it would interest him greatly."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed with a nod and a small smile. "And I don't think Miss Weasley has seen it either, has she?" Ginny shook her head in the negative. "Well, it can't hurt for all of us to have a second look. Shall we?"

Fifteen minutes later, the group reemerged from the archives' viewing room. Cedric was still in shock over the incredible piece of history he'd just seen – after all, it wasn't every day that a student got to read a letter written by one of the Hogwarts founders, particularly the founder of his own house.

"I believe we wanted to take another look at this as well," Dumbledore said, holding up Hufflepuff's ring. The trinket still looked as cheap as ever, but Harry, Hermione, and Draco, who knew of the ring's security system, had reason to believe that would change very soon.

"Are you sure this is the ring mentioned in Hufflepuff's letter?" Cedric asked with a slight frown. He was clearly confused by the ring's outward appearance.

"It was stored with the letter, so I am quite positive," Dumbledore replied. "There is, however, only one way to know for sure – go ahead and try it on, Mr. Diggory, if you're willing." With one last doubtful look from his headmaster to the ring, Cedric slipped the jewelry onto his finger.

None of the teenagers could hide their exclamations of wonder at what happened. As soon as the ring was in place, it had emitted a bright golden light and begun to change. When the light faded, they saw that the ring had magically sized itself to fit Cedric perfectly, and the plastic look was gone, replaced by a black onyx band broken by a stripe of yellow topaz. When they looked closer, they realized that the topaz was not, in fact, a row of tiny gemstones side by side as they'd first thought, but rather a continuous circle crafted from a single large stone. They couldn't even begin to imagine how much such a piece was worth.

"It's beautiful," Ginny breathed. And indeed it was, the onyx polished to a shine while the topaz glittered faintly in the candlelight.

"And there's no doubt now that you're fit to wear it," Harry pointed out. "The ring wouldn't have done that if you weren't."

"I can't believe it," Cedric whispered, staring in awe at the ring. He looked up at his companions then, and they were relieved when he broke into a grin. "I'm actually part of this prophecy – a prophecy that, by the looks of it, will play a huge part in bringing down You-Know-Who. It's intimidating, but it's also unbelievably cool." He admired the ring one last time before carefully removing it, the trinket assuming its plastic disguise once more.

"This should remain here for safekeeping, no? At least until you've found the other rings."

"A wise decision, I think," Dumbledore said, taking the ring. "I will keep it safe."

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said. "And thank you, Cedric." The older boy grinned once more.

"Anytime."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter wasn't initially going to exist - your reviews do actually influence the course of the story sometimes! Haha**

**Thank you for the new follows/faves/reviews, &amp; to all of you for reading. I do hope you're all enjoying this so far - I'd love to know what you think regardless!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. I can, however, take credit for the Legend of the Founders' Rings. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	18. The Comings and Goings of Springtime

Knowing the identity of one of the members of the rings quartet – indeed, knowing that the legend was _real _– was incredibly exhilarating. Hearing a story like that was one thing, but getting to be a part of one was another entirely. None of the friends would soon forget the sight of the ring post-transformation, its impossibly perfect gemstone sparkling in the candlelight, and Cedric was hard pressed to keep a ridiculous grin from spreading across his face at inappropriate moments throughout the weeks that followed. Of course, they still had to _find_ the other three rings before they could even think about who might wear them, but for now, their excitement overshadowed that particular detail.

To the friends' dismay and disgust, yet another Rita Skeeter article found its way into _Witch Weekly_ midway through March. The lengthy piece was two-fold – the first part went into Harry's story yet again, but this time, Skeeter decided to play up his underage status and speculate at length as to whether he really was the best candidate to be representing Hogwarts. If the article had been penned by anyone else, Harry might have seen it as concern for his well-being on the writer's part; Skeeter, however, had played up Harry's connection to Voldemort and thoroughly questioned his mental stability as well as his magical ability. As usual, the overwhelming majority of the article was complete rubbish, but that didn't stop Harry from being more than a little upset at its content, and the carefully chosen words were hard to ignore. The second half was, if possible, even worse – it seemed that the nosier readers of the gossip rag that was _Witch Weekly_ were clamoring for more on the supposed love square encompassing Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Viktor Krum, and Skeeter was only too happy to oblige. Hermione in particular received a fair amount of hate mail from readers accusing her of any number of horrible things and calling her a slew of names that would've made most people want to curl up into a ball and cry. Hermione, however, wasn't most people, and so she didn't cry – instead, she retaliated.

"I want to know how she's getting onto the grounds!" she hissed angrily as her eyes raced across the magazine's overly glossy pages. Lavender Brown had tossed the issue her way when she'd seen Hermione and Harry's names plastered across the front cover, and Hermione had nearly torn it to shreds in her haste to read the latest bit of slander.

"How do you expect to figure it out, Maya?" Harry asked. He was concentrating far more than was strictly necessary on cutting up his sausages, as he really didn't want to think about _Witch Weekly_ any more than he had to.

"I don't know," Hermione snapped back, "but I fully intend to do it. She's been banned from Hogwarts since right after the first task – that was four months ago, and yet she's still writing about things she'd only know about if she were actually here! Never mind that it's all complete rubbish, but how else would she know that I went to the ball with Krum, or that Draco and I are together? The rest of the _school _doesn't even know about that!" She had a point, of course – Skeeter certainly hadn't been in attendance at the Yule Ball, and only their closest friends knew of Hermione and Draco's relationship. Rita Skeeter most definitely wasn't one of their closest friends, not by a long shot…so how had she found out?

"D'you think she's bugging the school somehow?" Harry asked, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork. "Hidden recording devices, or something?"

"That stuff wouldn't work here," Hermione said dismissively. "Hogwarts' magic is too strong, it interferes with Muggle technology and renders it useless…and since when are you an expert on bugging devices, anyway?"

"Padfoot went through a phase when we were like six where he was ridiculously fascinated by spy movies – it was kinda hard not to pick up some things after hearing them for weeks on end." Harry shrugged. "Thought it was worth a try."

"Well, it might give me a place to start, anyway," Hermione conceded. "Even if Muggle devices don't work here, she might be using something similar. I almost hope it's something illegal – the sooner Wizarding journalism is rid of that horrible liar, the better."

Whispering filled the corridors after the article's appearance, directed in equal parts at Harry and Hermione. The comments thrown at Harry came from those students who'd opposed his selection for the tournament and varied from angry glares to suggestions that he book himself space in the permanent spell damage ward of St. Mungo's. Hermione was called all manner of nasty names, mostly by Pansy Parkinson and her friends, but she received a fair number of looks and comments from others as well, including Viktor Krum. A few days after the article was printed, he went out of his way to knock her books to the floor in the busy entrance hall right after lunch, making sure to loudly call her a worthless Mudblood before walking away with a sneer on his face. The boys were ready to race after Krum and hex him to smithereens, but Hermione held them back as she finished gathering her fallen possessions.

"I've decided something about Krum," she said as they ascended the grand staircase. "He's Durmstrang's version of Theodore Nott – in other words, he's not worth getting riled up over. He can insult me all he wants, but unless he can come up with something more original than 'Mudblood,' he's not going to do much damage." Harry and Draco were still skeptical at first, but when they saw that Hermione meant what she said, they realized she was right. Krum was annoying and rude, but he wasn't worth the extra agony.

The rest of March and the first few weeks of April flew by, much to the chagrin of the students. Spring meant the disappearance of snow as warmer weather finally returned to the castle, but it also meant an exponential increase in everyone's workload as the professors relentlessly prepared the students for final exams. When the Easter holidays finally arrived, they were glad to pack up and leave the castle for a while, even if their trunks were much more laden down with books and parchment than they'd have liked. The fact that most students hadn't seen their families since September added to the anticipation, and Harry and his friends eagerly counted down the hours to home as they played Exploding Snap while the Hogwarts Express meandered southward.

"Hey, strangers!" Sirius greeted them as they stepped off the train. The teenagers laughed and hugged Sirius, Lily, and Hermione's parents, all of whom had made the trip to London – the adults, it seemed, were as excited as the children.

"Let's get into the car, and you can tell us all about what's been going on," Lily suggested. Harry and Draco, of course, had gone home briefly after the Yule Ball to take care of Harry's annual visit to the Dursleys, but they hadn't had much time to discuss the goings-on at Hogwarts, and none of them had gone into much detail in the few letters they'd sent. As a result, Harry found he had rather a lot to say once they were all in the car. The trio took turns talking about their school year thus far, and they'd barely gotten through the champions' selection by the time they were back in Surrey. The storytelling continued over dinner and well into dessert, and they'd only just finished as the dishes were washed and dried.

"Well, you've certainly been busy, that's for sure," Hermione's mother said. "I almost wish I could've gone to Hogwarts myself."

"Muggle school is a lot safer, I promise you," Lily said with a laugh.

"True…but not nearly as exciting. Dragons, centaurs, foreign ambassadors…and that's on top of magic itself!" Everyone laughed at that.

"It definitely is exciting, Mum," Hermione said with a smile.

"I don't know that I can stay up much longer," Harry finally admitted. "I'm exhausted." Draco and Hermione agreed, and the adults pointed out that there would be plenty of time to catch up in the morning. Rather than separate, the trio set up camp on the living room floor, and it wasn't long before they'd dropped off to sleep.

While there was plenty of schoolwork to be done, the Easter holidays were still relaxing and much appreciated. The Surrey contingent went to the Burrow for Easter dinner, where they enjoyed countless dishes of Mrs. Weasley's superb cooking. They made good use of the orchard by playing pickup Quidditch all afternoon, and Fred and George previewed a few joke sweets they'd developed – away from the watchful eyes of their mother, of course. Draco and Hermione's relationship, which had so far gone unmentioned, became common knowledge one afternoon while they were all doing homework and Hermione offered to help Draco find a book he thought he'd lost.

"Sure, that's why you're going upstairs alone," Harry teased.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione cried, her cheeks instantly bright red. Draco, however, remained perfectly stoic and cocked an eyebrow at his brother and their assembled parents, all of whom looked interested.

"Harry, if I wanted to go off and snog my girlfriend, do you really think I'd resort to the excuse of a lost textbook to make her follow me? Honestly." He then kissed Hermione swiftly, winked at the rest of the room's occupants, and trotted upstairs as if nothing had happened at all. Hermione, if possible, turned even redder and sank to the steps with a groan.

"That is _not_ how I envisioned that going," she mumbled. "Harry, I'm going to kill you…"

Sirius, Lily, and the Grangers burst into laughter at her statement.

"It's not like we didn't already know," her mother said, amusement visible in her eyes. "Mothers' intuition, darling." Hermione muttered something unintelligible in response and scampered up the stairs after Draco, causing a fresh wave of laughter, and there was quite a bit of good-natured teasing when the couple finally returned, Draco's book in hand.

The rest of the Easter holidays passed in a blur of essays and studying, and the trio returned to Hogwarts ready to dive into their work once more. As usual, the workload increased dramatically as finals drew nearer, and they were hard pressed to find time to spare for dueling practice, though they managed if they were careful. Hermione continued to research magical methods of spying, convinced as she was that Rita Skeeter was doing something illegal, and they mulled over the rest of the prophecy as well, though they made no noticeable progress. Now that they knew the 'four' referred to the rings, they needed to unlock the secrets of the 'three' and 'six', but they figured they needed some additional clues before they'd get that far.

One evening near the end of May, Harry returned to the Room of Requirement with some good news.

"I've just been told – well, shown, really – what the third task is!" he said excitedly.

"What is it? Tell us!" Ginny exclaimed.

"It's a maze," Harry said. "They're growing giant hedges on the Quidditch pitch – they're not very big yet, but by the time the task rolls around, they'll be huge. There will be obstacles – spells, creatures, that sort of thing – throughout the maze, and the object is to find the Triwizard Cup in the middle. Whoever gets there first wins the tournament."

"Well, that seems pretty straightforward," Blaise said, glancing up from the History of Magic review he and Tracey were doing. Magical mazes were far more interesting than goblin treaties anyway.

"Yeah – much more than the other two tasks," Harry agreed. "When we start the task depends on how well we've done so far, so I think I'll have a pretty decent head start on some of the other champions." While he'd been nervous and anxious before the first two tasks, now he was almost excited.

"Harry," Hermione said slowly, "if you prepare properly for this, you could actually win." After having focused so long on merely staying alive, hearing such a positive thought spoken aloud was a bright spot in what had otherwise been a very stressful year. Harry grinned broadly and picked up a spell book.

"Well, then, I'd better get started, hadn't I?"

* * *

**A/N: I am officially on vacation - hallelujah! To celebrate, I give you chapter 18 - bit of a filler, but those do happen sometimes. Wouldn't make sense to jump from February to June in one go, now would it? ;) Third task coming up soon!**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading! I hope you're enjoying my work.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! If I don't update again before then, a very merry Christmas to you all! :)**


	19. Spares

As usual, June burst forth in a flurry of warmth and sunshine, all the sounds and smells of the approaching summer making themselves known in full force, and as usual, Harry and his friends were too busy to notice. Final exams were just around the corner, and while Triwizard champions were exempt from taking them, their friends were not. As a result, piles of textbooks were scattered across every available surface in the Room of Requirement, and it wasn't uncommon for Charms theories or potions ingredients to become the main subject of their lunchtime conversations. Harry did his best to help his friends study, and in return, they helped him prepare for the third task – whenever they fancied a break from revision, they had the room shift into their dueling space and practiced their spell work. Hermione in particular had found a number of useful spells that could potentially come in handy in the maze, and as many of the spells would be good to know in other situations as well, they all learned them alongside Harry.

The week of the third task found Harry practicing his spell work alone, as the others were too busy with their exams to help, but he didn't mind. Glad that he was to be so prepared for a task, he was also eager for the tournament to be over, and he valued the opportunity to work through his racing emotions in solitude. He left the training room each night sweaty and exhausted, but he always felt better than he had when he'd started, and he took that as a good sign.

At breakfast on the morning of the third task, Dumbledore asked the champions to stay behind at the conclusion of the meal. Harry wished his friends good luck on their last exam before following his headmaster into the room at the back of the Great Hall, and he was both pleasantly surprised and more than a little thrilled to find Lily and Sirius waiting there.

"Mum!" he said brightly, rushing forward to hug her. Lily laughed lightly as she hugged him back while Sirius ruffled his hair.

"Good to see you too, kid," Sirius replied. "Did you forget that families were invited to watch the last task?" He gestured around the room, and Harry noticed the other champions talking to who were undoubtedly their families – Gabrielle Delacour waved shyly when she saw him, and Harry would have to have been blind not to notice Krum's uncanny resemblance to his father.

"Er…yeah, I guess I did." Harry's response sounded sheepish, but he grinned broadly all the same. Somehow, everything seemed a lot less overwhelming with them there.

"We've been told to take note of _everything_ so we can tell the Grangers when we get back home," Lily informed him, "so I suggest we make good on that promise. What are you three up to today?"

"Well, Maya and Drake are sitting their last exam right now – the champions are exempt, which is why I'm here, but they won't be done for a couple hours yet. But I suppose we could go for a walk or something until lunch, and then we can meet up with them."

"Works for me," Sirius said with a shrug. "I seem to recall that I spent most of my last visit here in the hospital wing, so we should make up for that." Harry laughed – indeed, Sirius had come to see Harry and Draco play Quidditch in their second year and had ended up in Madam Pomfrey's care when a spell from the inept Professor Lockhart cost him all the bones in one arm. Aside from healing in time for breakfast in the Great Hall the following morning, Sirius really hadn't been in any condition to go exploring, and given his Marauding nature, he was probably more than anxious to do so.

Harry, Lily, and Sirius spent the morning wandering the halls of Hogwarts, and Harry enjoyed the many stories the adults had to tell about this painting or that stairwell. Sirius was very disappointed to find that the secret passage behind a large mirror on the fourth floor had caved in since his school days and was therefore no longer accessible, but he showed Harry another passage hidden behind the statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch, which he said went all the way into the cellar of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade. They made a visit to Gryffindor Tower as well, and the Fat Lady had them in stitches with some of the stories she had to tell about the Marauders' antics.

"So _that's_ why you all showed up with blue hair that night!" Lily giggled after a particularly funny anecdote.

"Hey – at least I figured out how to get rid of it," Sirius defended himself. "James had blue hair for three days before he sorted himself out!"

"You didn't tell him yourself?" Harry wondered.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Sirius replied with a wink, sending his godson into a fresh wave of laughter.

The Great Hall was quite crowded with the addition of the six champions' families, but nobody seemed to mind, and laughter filled the room as everyone enjoyed the meal. After lunch, Hermione and Draco joined them for a walk outside, and they also introduced Lily and Sirius to the Room of Requirement.

"Never ceases to amaze me, Hogwarts," Sirius said fondly as the room shifted from study space to dueling arena. "Always full of surprises."

Dinner was an even more spirited affair than lunch had been, and the excitement only mounted as the countdown to the third task continued. The only oddity Harry noticed was the absence of Professor Karkaroff, and when he leaned around Hermione and Ginny to ask Peter about it, the Durmstrang boy only shrugged and said he hadn't seen his headmaster since that morning. That certainly was strange, Harry thought – why would one of the heads of school risk missing part of a task?

When dinner was over, Dumbledore once again bade the champions stay behind, and Harry received many hugs and well wishes before his friends and family headed down to the Quidditch pitch.

"Where do you think we should sit?" Ginny asked as they walked.

"As high up as we can, I'd think," Hermione said. "It's not like we'll be able to see much, especially once it gets dark, but we might be able to watch some of it if we can see over the hedges."

The champions' families had VIP seating in the teachers' box, so Lily and Sirius made their way up the tight staircase to said box while Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Blaise, Tracey, Neville, and Eloise headed for the student seats. Though they were a large group, they managed to find a set of seats three rows from the top right behind a handful of the Durmstrang students, and they were quite pleased with their vantage point as they settled in. There was a large block of Gryffindors a few rows down, and Hermione and Ginny waved as they caught sight of Ron, Dean, and Seamus.

It wasn't long before the champions entered the stadium to deafening applause, accompanied by the heads of school, Ludo Bagman, and Mr. Crouch. _No,_ Hermione thought as she examined the adults more closely, _only two of the heads – Professor Karkaroff still isn't here._ Harry had pointed out Durmstrang's missing headmaster at dinner, and it seemed that the silver-haired man was still absent. Instead, a dark-haired man roughly her parents' age stood next to Madame Maxime, and Hermione heard the Durmstrang students immediately erupt in conversation at the sight of him. They were speaking rapidly in a language she didn't know, but she caught the words 'Herr Gustavson', which she assumed was the man's name. Hoping she wasn't being rude, Hermione reached forward and tapped the closest student on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," she said quickly, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but who is that man down there?" She pointed towards the heads of school. The Durmstrang girl, a petite blonde with thick-framed black glasses, nodded.

"He is Professor Gustavson," she answered, her speech tinged with a German accent. "He is our…I do not know what you call him in English. He is a professor, but he is also the second head of our school, like your Scottish professor is here."

"Oh – he's your deputy headmaster," Hermione replied, understanding the girl's reference to Professor McGonagall. "Do you…do you know why he's here?"

"I do not," the girl replied, shaking her head a little. "We are just as confused as everyone else – I am sorry."

"It's alright," Hermione reassured her. "Thanks anyway." The blonde girl nodded again and turned back to her classmates, and Hermione settled back into her seat. Missing headmaster or not, the third task was due to start any minute now.

"Goooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the third and final task of this year's Triwizard Tournament!" Ludo Bagman's amplified voice soared over the crowd once more, and there was a second wave of applause.

"The task will begin in just a few minutes, and I hope you'll allow me a moment of explanation before it does. The champions will begin the task in order according to their current standings. The Triwizard Cup is situated somewhere near the center of the maze, and whoever touches it first wins the tournament – it's as simple as that, folks. There will be an awards ceremony immediately following the conclusion of the task, and we do hope you all stick around for that as well. And now, without further ado – Mr. Krum, if you please!" Krum stepped forward, the light from the sunset casting a lengthy shadow in his wake, and following the shrill blast of a whistle, he rushed into the maze. At the same time, a group of teachers wearing large, luminescent stars on their hats set off around the maze's perimeter, presumably to be on hand in case anything went wrong.

"Mr. Potter!" A second whistle blast, and Hermione watched her friend race into the maze after Krum. She squeezed Draco and Ginny's hands tightly as Harry disappeared, fervently hoping that the maze wouldn't give him too much trouble. The tournament had been exciting, but it had also been dangerous, and Hermione secretly couldn't wait for it to be over.

Four more blasts sent the rest of the champions on their way, and then all was quiet. The hedges were high enough that while those in the uppermost seats could see the rough outline of the maze, no one could see over the hedges completely, and it was only when a champion met something in the maze and spell fire lit up the rapidly darkening sky that the spectators knew anything was happening.

"What d'you think is in there?" Ginny asked after twenty minutes or so.

"I don't want to think about it," Hermione replied. "They had no problem throwing the champions in front of dragons with no warning, so there's bound to be something awful in there."

"Maybe one of those horrible Skrewt things Hagrid's been making us study," Draco suggested. When Hermione gave him a horrified look in response, he merely shrugged and said, "What? We haven't yet found any other use for them…"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" someone shouted then. Hermione, Ginny, and Draco's attention snapped back to the maze, where a number of brightly colored lights were flashing wildly as shouts filled the air.

"They're not fighting _each other_ in there, are they?" Ginny asked, looking scared. Hermione squeezed her hand tighter, and Draco placed one hand on the girls' clasped ones while wrapping the other reassuringly around Hermione's waist.

Moments later, a scream ripped through the air, followed by a stream of red sparks that shot skyward and hovered over a point in the maze like a beacon.

"I think that's the distress signal," Ginny said quietly. "The one they're supposed to send up if they need to be taken out of the maze. I hope whoever it is, is alright." The tension was almost palpable as the spectators waited for some sort of explanation, and they finally got it when Professor Flitwick emerged from the maze's entrance with Fleur in tow. Fleur's clothes were torn and she looked disoriented but otherwise seemed unhurt, and the friends let out a collective sigh of relief.

Not too long after Fleur's appearance, the second distress signal went up. It took much longer for Professor McGonagall to return than it had Flitwick, and when she did, the crowd gasped when they realized the Scottish witch was struggling to support Peter, who was bleeding profusely and could barely walk. She led him directly to a medical tent at the edge of the maze, and the Durmstrang boy wasn't seen again.

"Just Bastien, Krum, Harry, and Cedric left," Draco murmured quietly. As horrible as the thought was, the fact that two champions had already been eliminated left that much more of a chance for his brother to win it all. Not that Harry particularly cared if he won or not – just like his friends, he would just be grateful to finish – but still, it'd be nice to show whoever had put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire that Harry was capable of beating all the odds.

It was much darker now, and to help pass the time, the trio began to play a game, taking a guess every time they saw the light of a spell as to what the spell might be. Aside from an odd blue glow that left them all stumped, they came up with ideas for every light they found, and it successfully kept them entertained. The obstacles were getting harder, if the frequency and variety of lights were anything to go by, but the remaining champions seemed to be holding their own, as no one else left the maze.

Ginny, Hermione, and Draco had been playing their game for just over half an hour when a brilliant flash lit up the stadium, followed by confused, frantic shouting.

"I can't be sure, but that kinda sounds like Harry," Ginny said.

"It does – can you hear what he's saying?" Hermione asked, biting her lip. Draco, too, looked very worried.

"No…"

Not two minutes later, the bright light came again, and the shouting morphed into a long, drawn-out scream. It was the most horrible sound any of them had ever heard, and a visible ripple shot around the stands as almost everyone shivered in tandem. Red sparks appeared and hovered almost directly over the center of the maze, and the screaming continued as people instantly jumped to their feet and began talking loudly.

"What's going on?" Neville shouted over the din.

"We don't know!" Draco yelled back. He was terrified beyond words, and both of the girls looked close to tears. What the hell was happening? Whatever it was, he had a feeling that something had gone horribly wrong.

Draco had no idea how 'horribly wrong' the situation was, but he – and the rest of the school – would soon find out, and it would shock them to the core. At that moment, Harry was kneeling under a cloud of red sparks, trying his best not to throw up, cry, or both. He barely noticed the sharp intake of breath as Professor Moody arrived on the scene, nor the Triwizard Cup, which was lying on its side at the base of the pedestal on which it had been perched. The blank eyes of the spread-eagled body in front of him were unseeing as they stared up at the sky, and the note pinned to the boy's chest glistened with a sinister ink that looked horribly like blood:

_I have no use for spares._

The note wasn't signed, but there was no need for a name – the skull and snake symbol branded beneath the words said it all.

* * *

**A/N: Oh dear...what just happened? &amp; what's coming next?**

**A very happy birthday to my lovely sister, who is 17 today. I hope all of you who celebrated had a wonderful Christmas - mine was quite good.**

**In other news, as of last chapter (whoops), this is my longest fanfic ever - woohoo! An extra big thank you to everyone who has followed/faved/reviewed this series so far, &amp; I really hope you're enjoying it. Keep sending me your thoughts, I love to hear them!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	20. An Imposter Exposed

The next fifteen minutes were nothing short of chaotic. Harry had no idea how he managed to make it out of the maze without collapsing, but he soon found himself back at its entrance. He'd leaned heavily on Professor Moody almost the entire way out, as an earlier run-in with an Acromantula had left his leg broken. Just behind them was Bastien, who was unnaturally pale – they'd run into him halfway through their journey, and to say the French wizard had been shocked was a bit of an understatement:

_Using Professor Moody for support, Harry forced himself to keep limping through the maze, which was eerily quiet now that the task was over – it seemed as though the obstacles within were purposely steering clear of their path. As they rounded the next corner, Harry caught sight of Bastien, who was leaning against a hedge and wiping sweat from his brow._

_"Potter? What is going…oh, _mon Dieu!"_ Bastien had finally noticed that Harry and Moody weren't alone, and he jumped away from the levitating body with a startled yelp._

_"Is that…is 'e…"_

_"He is," Harry said quietly. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud that their fellow champion was dead. Bastien then saw the note, yelped again, and let out a string of rapid French that Harry didn't understand but guessed wasn't very polite._

"Mon Dieu,"_ Bastien said again. "I cannot believe it…'e…I did not know 'im well, but 'e was always polite to me, even when I was not so kind in return." He tore his gaze away from the body and fell to muttering to himself in French again, seemingly unable to express his thoughts coherently any longer._

_"We should get going, you two," Moody said suddenly, making both boys jump. "Should try to find Krum if we can, though he might've gotten out himself – in any case, Dumbledore needs to know about this."_

As soon as they exited the maze, people started shouting.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"Who screamed?"

"Where are the other champions?"

"Oh my God…is that Cedric Diggory? What happened to him?"

Harry wanted to scream. How could they not tell? Was it not obvious that Cedric was dead?

It took mere seconds for those closest to put the pieces together, and when they did, gasps and cries ripped through the crowd as the message was passed along:

"He's dead – Cedric Diggory's dead!"

* * *

Ginny, Draco, and Hermione fought their way through the mass of people as best they could, but it was slow going. Their first goal was finding Lily and Sirius, but more than anything, they wanted to find Harry. The three friends were more scared than they could ever remember being, and they still didn't know what had happened. As they approached the front of the maze, however, the whispers reached their ears. Ginny, who was leading them through the crowd, stopped dead in her tracks.

"Did you hear that?" she asked the couple behind her, her face white as she turned to look at them. "They're saying Cedric's dead." Hermione gasped, and Draco urged Ginny to continue onward, which they did as best they could. Finally, they reached the front of the crowd, and they nearly sobbed in relief to see Lily and Sirius talking with Dumbledore.

"Mum!" Draco shouted. Lily turned at the familiar greeting, and the trio rushed forward into Lily's embrace.

"Oh, thank heavens," Lily murmured. Her green eyes were very wet, and fresh tear tracks glistened on her cheeks.

"Mum, what happened? Where's Harry? Is he alright?" Draco demanded. "Everyone's saying that Cedric…" He trailed off, unable to finish that last thought.

"Oh, my darlings," Lily whispered, another wave of tears spilling over. "I wish I could deny it, but I can't. What you heard is true – Cedric is dead."

"No…" Hermione said softly. Tears came quickly to all of them – they hadn't known Cedric well for very long, but he'd proven himself a loyal friend.

"I don't know what happened," Lily managed to continue. "Harry came out of the maze a few minutes ago with Professor Moody and the French boy, and they had Cedric with them. At first, we thought Cedric was just unconscious, but then Harry started crying and the French boy looked like he was about to be sick…" She faltered then and wiped her fingers under her streaming eyes. "They took him to the medical tent, so he'd be out of the way of prying eyes, and Professor Dumbledore is with his parents now." The three teenagers were silent as they processed the terrible news.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny asked, repeating Draco's earlier question.

"Professor Moody said he was going to take him to the medical tent as well," Lily replied. "Probably for a Calming Draught, and he was also barely walking."

"We're going to see him, then," Ginny said, her tone resolute. "We have to." Hermione and Draco nodded in agreement, and the trio made for the medical tent as quickly as they could.

"Madam Pomfrey? Are you in here?" Ginny called, hesitantly pushing open the flap. The interior of the tent was set up like a much smaller version of the hospital wing, with six beds spaced evenly in two rows. Two of the beds had their curtains drawn, suggesting that they were occupied, and Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtains of the bed on the right. Like everyone else they'd seen recently, she looked like she'd been crying.

"Goodness, what are you three doing in here?" she asked.

"We came to see Harry," Ginny said with a frown. Madam Pomfrey looked confused.

"Mr. Potter? I haven't seen him all evening," she said, sounding sincere.

"Then where is he?" Ginny wondered. "If he never came here…"

"We need to find Professor Dumbledore, now," Hermione interrupted. "Something's not right here."

* * *

Harry, as it transpired, was halfway back to Hogwarts before his friends even reached his mother. Professor Moody had insisted he return to the castle and rest, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that following the older wizard had been a huge mistake. Wasn't Madam Pomfrey in the medical tent? If she – and the rest of the teachers, for that matter – were still at the Quidditch pitch, then why was Moody taking him to the castle? His instincts were telling him to run, but he was in no shape to do so – his leg was hurting worse than ever, and he had no doubts that he'd barely be able to make it two steps on his own.

The journey through the castle was nothing short of torture, but Harry soon found himself in Moody's office. In spite of his predicament, Harry was curious – the office looked nothing like it had when Lockhart or Lupin had taught, and the various objects scattered across the table and mounted on the wall were very interesting.

"Dark detectors," Moody said with a slight smirk, having noticed Harry's roving eyes. "Foe-Glass, Sneakoscope – though that one doesn't work anymore, I had to dismantle it when I got here…but that's not why we're here, is it?"

"Er…why _are_ we here, Professor?" Harry asked.

"What happened in that maze, Potter?"

_"What?"_

"You heard me, boy. What happened in that maze, with Diggory?"

"I…I don't really know," Harry said truthfully. He was trying his best not to show how frightened he was, and he fervently hoped he was succeeding. "Cedric…Cedric helped me get away from the giant spider that attacked us, but not before it broke my leg." He gestured towards his wound, which was oozing slightly. "Then…well, he suggested that we take the Cup at the same time – insisted, even. I told him no – he was still standing and I couldn't even move, so he should've won, fair and square – but he refused. He said it was still a Hogwarts victory, and so he came over next to me and Summoned the Cup, with the intention of both of us grabbing on at the same time. I…I missed," he finished quietly.

"What?" Moody asked.

"I m-missed," Harry repeated. "This horrible pain shot up my leg – I think it was some aftershock from the spider's attack – and I fell. I tried to grab on with him, I really did, but I just couldn't do it. My leg hurt so much…and then there was this bright flash of light, and he was gone. I started shouting, but obviously that wasn't going to do any good…and then there was another flash, and…"

"Diggory was back?" Moody prompted.

"Yes," Harry whispered. "And he was…he was…d-dead." He shuddered violently and pressed his palms roughly over his eyes, as if the pressure could make the image of his dead schoolmate disappear.

"Idiot boy," Moody muttered. "He wasn't supposed to get there first." Harry looked up, startled.

"What?"

"He wasn't supposed to get there first!" Moody snapped. "Merlin, Potter, are you really that dense? It was supposed to be you!"

"It was supposed to be me? Wait…it…it was _you?"_ Harry gasped.

"Yes, you stupid boy! I was the one who put your name in the Goblet of Fire! I was the one who made sure that you made it through the second task so easily – didn't you notice that you hardly met anything in the forest at all? I kept your path through the maze as clear as I could, and I transformed the Triwizard Cup…and Diggory _ruined it all_ by touching it first!"

"Ruined _what,_ exactly?" Harry asked, backing away as surreptitiously as he could with his bad leg.

"Don't play dumb, boy – you know exactly who killed Diggory, don't you?"

"Voldemort," Harry whispered, remembering all too clearly the Dark Mark seared into the note.

"You dare to speak his name?" Moody hissed angrily. "But yes, Potter, my master killed him – he was terribly angry, I know it, as it was supposed to be _you."_ He paused and drew his wand. "But no matter. There's no reason I can't finish what I started."

Harry barely had time to fling himself away from Moody's spell, which thankfully wasn't green but still didn't look friendly. The spell collided with the wall and left a sizzling hole in the stone, and Harry ignored the pain in his leg as best he could as he rolled this way and that, avoiding curse after curse. His wand was nowhere to be found – either he'd dropped it in the maze, or Moody had it. Either way, Harry was weaponless, and so he focused all his energy on avoiding getting cursed. There was a loud crash, and Harry rolled once more to get away from the shards of glass raining from the window that had just broken. It was clear Moody thought he was winning, as he seemed to be almost toying with Harry, and that just made the young wizard angry. His own professor had knowingly put him in harm's way and didn't seem to care that another of his students was dead. A surge of rage raced through Harry, and he threw himself forwards, catching Moody off guard and knocking him to the ground. A scuffle ensued, but Harry managed to gain the upper hand, not only pinning Moody to the floor, but winning his wand as well. Without hesitation, Harry pointed the wand directly at Moody's face.

_"Stupefy!"_ The bright red jet hit its target just as the office door crashed open. Professor Dumbledore burst into the room, followed closely by Professors Snape and McGonagall, Lily, Sirius, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny.

"HARRY!" Lily shouted, rushing forward and throwing her arms around her son. "Oh my God…"

"Harry, what the hell just happened?" Sirius demanded. "Why did Moody bring you here?"

"I don't think this is Alastor Moody, Sirius," Dumbledore interrupted quietly.

"I…what? What do you mean?"

"In his robe pocket – there should be a hip flask." Sirius found the flask without much trouble and passed it over to Dumbledore, who opened it and sniffed before conjuring a goblet and pouring some of the contents into it. The teenagers recognized the sludgy liquid immediately.

"Polyjuice Potion," Dumbledore said. "An ingenious plan, really – Alastor was known for always drinking from his hip flask, you know. May I ask what spell you hit him with, Harry?"

"Stunning spell, Sir," Harry replied, still looking shocked. Dumbledore nodded.

"I'm guessing we won't have long to wait," he said with a glance at his pocket watch. "It's been nearly an hour since Moody first went to fetch you from the maze, and I can't imagine he remembered to take his latest dose, what with all the excitement…in the meantime, Severus, would you please fetch me a dose of the strongest Veritaserum in your stores? I have a feeling we're going to need it." Snape gave a curt nod and strode swiftly from the room.

Dumbledore was right – barely ten minutes had gone by before the unconscious wizard on the floor began to change, his skin bubbling grotesquely as his hair darkened, his magical eyeball and wooden leg popping out of their sockets as their normal counterparts returned, and his features shifting into those of a much younger man. Everyone gasped. There was no mistaking those broad shoulders, that hooked nose… Snape, who had returned moments before, passed Dumbledore a small vial, and Dumbledore poured three drops of its contents into the imposter's mouth before waking him with a spell.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What is your name?"

"Viktor Krum."

"If you'd be so kind, Mr. Krum, as to tell us how you came to be impersonating my Defense professor?"

"It vos not hard," Krum said with a shrug, his eyes sporting the glazed look that was a side effect of Veritaserum. "Vhen my schoolmates and I arrived at Hogwarts, I made it my mission to learn your staff. Moody was an easy choice, as I noticed his hip flask very quickly, and I saw that it vos never questioned. Vunce I had him alone, it vos easy to put him under the Imperius curse – I could not just kill him outright, as I had to learn his ways in order to become him."

"But why did you do it?" Dumbledore pressed. "What did my staff have that you did not?"

"I needed full access to Hogwarts," Krum replied. "Even vhen I vos chosen as Durmstrang's champion, I could not get all the knowledge that I needed. I needed to learn as much about the tasks as I could, and I needed to make sure that Harry Potter von the tournament."

"Why?"

"Does this answer your question?" Krum pulled up his left sleeve, and the others gasped and recoiled at the ugly black mark on his forearm.

"My master vould haff been pleased – so pleased – to be presented vith Harry Potter tonight," Krum said. "I entered his name under another school so I knew he vould be chosen, and I learned the maze before tonight to make sure that I vould reach the Cup first. I turned the Cup into a Portkey, von that vould take Potter to my master, and doubled back into the maze, acting as normal as I could. I Confunded and Stunned Fleur Delacour as Moody – that magical eye can see through almost anything, it vos very useful – but I vos unable to eliminate any of the other champions from the contest. Although I heard Johansson had a bad encounter vith a Sphinx – stupid boy," he growled.

"And how did you manage to be in two places at once, Mr. Krum?" Professor McGonagall asked. In reply, Krum removed a fine golden necklace from beneath his robes and handed it to her. Hermione hissed when she recognized the elaborate hourglass hanging from the chain.

"It is a Time-Turner, specially modified for extended use," Krum said almost smugly. "I haff been able to be two people at once for the entire year, and no von has known."

"Meddling with the laws of time is a very dangerous thing indeed, Mr. Krum," Dumbledore said with a frown. "You're very lucky that nothing happened to either of your selves…and speaking of which, where _is_ your other self?"

"Gone," Krum said simply. "For today, I made sure that I vos the real Krum, and the von who looked like Krum vos the double. Another feature of that Time-Turner – the double looks and acts like a real person, but vhen the need for him is gone, he simply disappears. Normally, one of the two must go back in time again to complete the loop, but that is not necessary here. The double disappeared as soon as my disguise vos known – he is gone for good, and now it is just me." For some reason, he still looked exceptionally smug.

"And where, might I ask, is your headmaster? Or the real Alastor Moody?" Dumbledore continued.

"My headmaster is most likely dead – he fled this morning, vhen ve felt our Marks burn. My master has never liked cowards, so he vill not live long. As for Moody, he is in the last compartment of his trunk, but I vould not bother. I had him under a spell – as soon as my disguise vos known, he vould die. There is no saving him now. Do you haff any more questions?"

"No, I don't think so," Dumbledore said. "You've certainly told us more than enough for me to believe that the Ministry will be very interested in your story."

"The Ministry? Oh, but there you are mistaken – I haff no intention of coming vith you to your Ministry." Krum smiled maliciously, and it was then that they noticed the glazed look was starting to disappear – the Veritaserum was wearing off. Quickly, Krum reached into his robes again and withdrew a set of keys on a heavy iron ring, which he tossed to the floor at Dumbledore's feet. Taking advantage of the distraction, Krum jumped to his feet and vanished. A falcon, its cruel beak prominently hooked in a very familiar fashion, stood in his place, and the bird let out a harsh cry before taking to the air.

"Stop that bird!" Harry shouted, but it was too late. The falcon deftly evaded the spell fire from Snape and McGonagall's wands and soared through the broken window into the night, its screech echoing eerily across the dark grounds as it disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: Another one of those scenes I've been planning for a while...anybody see that one coming?**

**Sorry for keeping you all in suspense after the last chapter - but yes, unfortunately, Cedric is dead. How will this affect the prophecy/rings? Stay tuned to find out. We're almost to the end of this installment, &amp; then we'll be on to part 5! (Brace yourselves - Umbridge is on her way! Yikes.)**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, &amp; for reading. JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**


	21. Farewell for Now

Never in Harry's time at Hogwarts had he ever recalled the castle being so full, yet so quiet. After a Dreamless Sleep-aided night in the hospital wing and an uncomfortable conversation with Dumbledore, he'd returned to Gryffindor Tower to finish packing his things. Under normal circumstances, they would've had several days in between the end of the tournament and their departure from Hogwarts, but thanks to current events, the schedule had been pushed up considerably, and the Express would be leaving in the morning. Harry was surprised that he was even taking the train, to be honest – many students' parents had pulled them out of school early when they'd heard what had happened to Cedric, and Harry had had a very difficult time indeed convincing his mum not to do the same. Lily had been upset and angry at first, but when Harry insisted that he had to be there for the tribute to Cedric Dumbledore would undoubtedly give, she relented, understanding all too well her son's shock and grief.

Harry sighed as he hefted a large sack of Galleons into his trunk. As he'd been closest to the Cup when Cedric had touched it, Harry had been declared the winner of the tournament, though he was informed of this decision in private by Dumbledore rather than in the elaborate awards ceremony that should have taken place.

_Right,_ Harry thought as he scanned the room for any stray possessions he might've missed, _if the awards ceremony had taken place like it should have, Cedric would've gotten this, not me._ He'd tried to give the gold to Cedric's parents when he'd met with them briefly, but they'd refused, insisting that Cedric would've wanted Harry to have it. That meeting had been the most awkward and uncomfortable of them all – Harry hadn't forgotten how harsh and accusatory Amos Diggory had been towards himself and his friends in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup, but he couldn't help feeling sorry at how lost and broken the older wizard looked now.

The one upside to the last twenty-four hours was the long-awaited capture of Rita Skeeter. Harry wasn't quite sure how she'd found the time or enough clues, but Hermione had uncovered Rita's secret – she was an unregistered Animagus, her form an unusually fat beetle with distinct markings around her eyes that unmistakably resembled her rhinestone-encrusted glasses. Hermione had caught her on the window ledge in the hospital wing, and the pesky bug was now trapped in a large glass jar that had been charmed to prevent her transformation. Aside from the fact that Skeeter couldn't use her acidic quill against anyone else, Harry was doubly glad that she'd been caught – he'd had more than enough of illegal Animagi for the time being.

The leaving feast was easily the most somber affair he'd attended in his Hogwarts career to date. Instead of banners celebrating the House Cup victors, black drapes hung behind the teachers' table and all along both side walls of the Great Hall. Save for Viktor Krum, who hadn't been seen since his literal flight from Hogwarts the night of the third task, none of the foreign students had left yet, and Professor Gustavson had taken Professor Karkaroff's seat at the top table, but the noticeable number of missing Hogwarts students made the room seem even more forlorn. There was also an empty seat where Professor Moody should have sat – the Auror was indeed dead by the time they managed to extract him from his trunk, and Dumbledore himself said that they couldn't pretend that it wasn't a difficult loss, both personally and for the Order. Hardly anyone spoke as they picked at their food, and Harry sighed quietly as he reached for more pumpkin juice, one of the few things he found himself able to stomach in any reasonable quantity.

Near the end of the meal, Dumbledore stood, and the hall was already so quiet that he didn't have to do anything further to gain everyone's attention.

"I'm sure it's hardly necessary," he said softly, "to point out that we are short a very fine member of our student body this evening." His eyes lingered on the Hufflepuff table, the occupants of which looked especially down. "Cedric Diggory was an excellent student, a role model prefect, and a talented Quidditch player. But he was far more than that – he was a hard worker, a loyal friend, and gave everyone a fair chance, no matter their circumstances. Therefore, it would be dishonest of me to keep the truth of Cedric's death from you."

Harry focused intently on his headmaster, interested in how Dumbledore was going to tell the students what had happened. When they'd discussed it earlier, they'd agreed that the students deserved to know the truth, but it was hard when there wasn't a way to sugarcoat it.

"Cedric's death was no accident, but the result of a premeditated plot set into motion nearly eight months ago. Cedric, unfortunately, was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and as a result, he was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A collective gasp rang through the Great Hall at these words, and the students looked to their headmaster as one, desperate for more information.

"I wish I could tell you that this information is false, but unfortunately, I cannot. We must part for the summer holidays in a matter of hours, and I implore you to remember the motto of the late Alastor Moody: constant vigilance. Dark times are coming far sooner than any of us would like, and we must prepare ourselves before they do – every member of this Hogwarts community is valuable, no matter what house's colors he or she wears, and we only hurt ourselves if we cannot stand united. That unity extends to our foreign guests as well – whether next week or next year, you will always be welcome at Hogwarts.

"I am heartbroken that we have lost such a fine young man, and I hope you will join me in honoring his memory by striving to rid the world of the evil that took him from us far before his time. Please, if you will, raise your glasses in honor of Cedric Diggory." Having finished with his speech, Dumbledore lifted his goblet high, and nearly everyone in the room followed suit, speaking Cedric's name in low murmurs as they drank their toast.

The next morning was full of last-minute scrambling as the occupants of Gryffindor Tower combed every last inch of their dormitories for forgotten possessions, many carrying slices of toast in their hands as they latched up their trunks and made their way downstairs. The Beauxbatons carriage and Durmstrang ship were nearly ready for departure as well, and the foreign students were saying their last goodbyes in the entrance hall.

"Harry! Over here!" Harry caught sight of Draco standing with Peter near the entrance to the Great Hall and hurried over, Hermione following close behind.

"Ship almost ready to go?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Peter replied. "We should be back at school by mid-afternoon, and I will be home by nightfall."

"What are you planning to do this summer?" Hermione asked.

"I am not sure, to be honest," Peter said. "This was my last year of school, so I should be looking for a job, but given recent events, I am not entirely sure that would be the best thing to do. Keeping my family safe is my top priority now." The others nodded understandingly.

"This is for you," Peter said then, reaching into his robes and extracting a small slip of parchment. Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that the elegant writing formed an address in Switzerland.

"My home can accept Muggle or Wizarding post, whichever is more convenient. Especially after your headmaster's speech last night, I would very much like to keep informed about things here, and I know I have a few classmates that feel the same way. We want to help in any way we can."

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely, folding the parchment and tucking it into his pocket for safekeeping. Hermione was already scribbling away on a spare bit of parchment, having found a Muggle pen in her bag, and soon handed her own address to Peter.

"Harry and Draco's house is protected by a variant of the Fidelius Charm, but I live close by, so you can contact all of us through me," Hermione explained. "It's a Muggle neighborhood, but these two have owls, so we get Wizarding post often enough – whichever is easier for you." Peter nodded, glanced at the parchment, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Thank you," he said then, offering his hand for each of them to shake. "It has been a real pleasure getting to know you all, and I hope we can meet again under better circumstances. Please do keep in touch."

"We will," Harry promised. With one last nod, Peter left, the horn of the ship sounding in the distance.

The trio had a similar conversation with Fleur and Bastien a few minutes later, the latter shocking them all by extending his hand in friendship, a sincere apology not far behind.

"My family understands ze darkness and 'atred of ze Death Eaters all too well," he said solemnly. "I 'ave lost many loved ones. Please let me know if zere is anyzing I can do to 'elp you in ze future." Fleur expressed a similar desire to help, and they all exchanged addresses once more.

Finally, the Durmstrang ship had disappeared beneath the lake's surface, the Beauxbatons carriage was climbing higher and higher above the Forbidden Forest, and the Hogwarts Express was chugging its way southward. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Eloise, Blaise, and Tracey had all crammed into one compartment, nobody seeming to mind the close quarters as they sat quietly in the company of their loved ones. The summer holidays had finally arrived, but there was a darkness hovering overhead that even the prospect of hot July days and sultry August nights couldn't dissolve completely. Whether they liked it or not, constant vigilance was the name of the game from now on.

* * *

_Thus concludes part 4 - the story continues in part 5, 'The Year of the Toad'._

* * *

**A/N: And so we've reached the end of part 4 - as per usual, chapter 1 of the next installment, 'The Year of the Toad', is already written &amp; will be up in a few minutes. Hope to see you there!**

**Thank you, as always, for following/favoriting/reviewing/reading my stories. I hope you're enjoying them so far.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; I'll see you in part 5! :)**


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